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NErt TEIViPERANCE TALES. 


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Price, cloth. $1.25 ; 50 

Sent post-paid on receipt of price. Address 


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;:8 Reade Stre#> New Yc 


THE 



MARY DWINELL CHELLIS, 

%fk 


AUTHOR OF “the BREWERY AT TAYLORVILLE “ THE BREVVER’S FORTUNE”; 
“ ALL FOR money” ; “ TEN CENTS*’; “ WEALTH AND WINE ” ; “ OUR HOMES ”: 
“the TEMPERANCE DOCTOR”; “ AUNT DINAh’s PLEDGE*’; “ AT LIOn’S 

mouth”; “out of the fire”; “ frOm father to son”; 

“ BREAD AND BEER”; “ FIFE AND DRUM*’; “DRINKING JACK*’; 

“the old tavern**; “a jolly time”; “profit and 

loss”; ETC. 




NEW YORK: 

National Temperance Society and Publication House, 

58 READE STREET. 

1885. 


Q ^ Y/ 


o 


COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY 

National Temperance Society and Publication House. 




Edward O. Jenkins’, Sons, 

Printers and Stereotypers, 

20 North William Street ^ New York. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Learning Economy, 5 

CHAPTER II. 

Corn-cake and Milk, 12 

CHAPTER III. 

Like Her Grandmother, 19 

CHAPTER IV. 

Discouraged, .25 

CHAPTER V. 

The Bursting of the Storm, . . . . . -30 

CHAPTER VI. 

An Unwelcome Guest, ^ 36 

CHAPTER VII.. 

Blunt’s Saloon, 42 

CHAPTER VIII. 

, . . .48 


On a Strike, 

(3) 


It 


4 


Contents, 


CHAPTER IX. 

PAGE 

Half the Loaf, . 53 

CHAPTER X. 

An Errand of Mercy, 59 

CHAPTER XI. 

Something to Drink, 64 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Helping Hand, 70 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Working-Man, 75 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Prize, 80 


THE 


WORKING-MAN’S LOAF. 


CHAPTER I. 

LEARNING ECONOMY. 

“I HAVE Started the fire for you,” said Robert 
Winter to his sister Mary, who had come home only 
the night before, after a five years’ absence in the 
country. I thought you wouldn’t know where to 
find things ; 'though generally there aren’t many 
things to find.” 

Where is father ? I thought I heard him before 
I came down,” responded the young girl who was 
already discouraged at the prospect before her. 

“ Gone after his beer.” 

“ Beer ! Does father drink beer ? ” 

“ Guess you’d think so, if you knew as much about 
it as I do. He always goes for some before break- 
fast ; then he takes another mug on his way to the 
shop ; another after dinner, and I don’t know how 
many more.” 

“ It must cost a good deal of money.” 

Of course it does. Men who sell beer sell it for 
money, and I think it is pretty mean to spend so 
much for what a man can do without better than 
not, and then be always complaining of how much 


6 


# 

' The Working-Mans Loaf. 

it costs to support a family. I hope )^ou can jnake 
things different, but mother can’t ; and she is all 
discouraged. She didn’t send for you as long as 
she could do the work. She hated to have you come 
to such a poor place.” 

“Never mind that, now, Robert. Tell me where 
the coffee is.” 

“ I know where it ought to be, but half the time 
there isn’t any, the same as now.” 

“ Then bring some tea.” 

“ Father don't like tea.” 

“What will he drink with his breakfast ?” 

“Nothing, and make up with beer afterward.” 

“ Is there any meat to be cooked ? ” 

“ No ; we don’t have meat for breakfast, and I 
don’t know of anything in the house to eat, except 
some bread and butter. The bread is pretty dry, 
but perhaps father’ll bring a fresh loaf when he 
comes back.” 

“ I could make a nice toast rf I had some milk.” 

“Not a drop in the house. We used to have a 
milkman come every day, but since we moved here 
we buy it at the corner store, when we have any. 
There comes father. You can ask him for money 
to pay for some milk, if you want to, and I will go 
for it.” 

Upon the request being made, Mr. Winter fumbled 
in his pockets, and at last gave Mary pennies to buy 
a pint of milk, saying a little sharply : 

“ We can’t afford to use milk as they do at your 
Uncle Daniel’s. You’ll have to learn economy, if 
you are going to live with us.” 


7 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 

“ Why, father ; Aunt Rachel is the most eco- 
nomical woman in town, and she has taught me her 
way of doing things,” answered Mary. “ I don’t 
think you will have any reason to complain of my 
extravagance.” 

“Well, well, child, I didn’t mean to blame you ; 
only money comes hard, and we must be careful 
how we spend it.” 

Fortunately, there was plenty of butter for the 
toast, and enough was saved from the scanty pint of 
milk for Mrs. Winter’s tea. Mr. Winter ate his 
breakfast in silence, and was hurrying away when 
his daughter said to him : 

“ I suppose you will send home something for 
dinner.” 

“ I sha’n’t have any time to see to it,” he replied ; 
adding, as he threw down a quarter : “ You must 
make that go as far as you can for dinner. I guess 
the last potatoes I bought are all gone, so you must 
look out for some.” 

Before Mary had time to think what she could do 
with so small an amount, her younger brothers 
came down, clamoring for breakfast. More toast 
was made, leaving only two slices of bread for her 
mother and herself. Then the boys rushed out, and 
she was left alone.- 

Presently her mother called, and she went into 
the little bedroom, looking as cheerful as possible, 
that she might not add to the burden she wished to 
lighten. 

“ I will bring you a cup of tea and some toast, 
and then perhaps you will feel able to come into 


8 I he Working-Man s Loaf, 

the kitchen and tell me what you would like to have 
me do to-day,” she said, after listening to com- 
plaints of wakefulness and a severe headache. 

“ Do anything you please, only don’t trouble me 
about it,” was replied. I am so tired, trying to 
do with . nothing, that I don’t care much what hap- 
pens, if I can only rest. It is hard for you, child ; 
coming from your Uncle Daniel’s, too, where they 
have enough of everything. I hope you won’t blame 
me for sending for you.” 

No, mother. I shall be glad if I can help you, 
but I don’t know what there is in the house to do 
with.” 

There isn't much of anything. That is the 
trouble, child. Your father used to be a good pro- 
vider, when we were first married ; but he has 
changed. I don’t want to find fault with him. I don’t 
suppose I have done as well as I might, but I am, 
clear discouraged. Have you learned to cook ? ” 

“Yes, mother. Aunt Rachel was sick, last year, 
and I did all the cooking for more than three 
months,” 

“You had enough to cook with.” 

“Yes, mother; but Uncle Daniel and Aunt 
Rachel are obliged to be economical in everything. 
All the boys want to go to college, and Uncle Daniel 
says if they do, money must be found under every 
stone on the old farm.” 

“ They have four boys, the same as we, ancT your 
father says our boys must go to work to earn their 
own living.” 

“ I thought father earned good wages.” 


9 


' The Working-Man^s Loaf, 

He does. He earns enough to send you all to 
school, and provide all w.e need. But I \’^on’t say 
any niore about it. You will find it all out for your- 
self before you have been 'here a great while. I 
hope you will manage better than I have, and per- 
haps your father will hear to you more than he has 
to me.” 

“ But if you and I should try together, mother.” 

“ I can’t try^” interrupted Mrs. Winter. “ If I was 
’fit to die, I s3;iould wish I was dead and out of the 
way.” 

Think of the boys ; how much they need you.’ 

“ I have thought of them until I am almost crazy* 
They are running wild, and I can’t help it. They 
were good little boys, but they are all wrong now 
Robert learned to read when he wasn’t much more 
than a baby, and I was so proud of him, I calculated 
he would make a grand scholar.” 

The mother’s face lighted up with something like 
animation, while talking of her boys as they had 
been; but when recalled to present necessities, she 
only reiterated her inability to meet the demands of 
the hour. 

“ If you have twenfy-five cents, you have more 
than I have had for a long time. You must make it 
go as far as you can,” she said at last, sighing 
wearily. 

It was some relief to Mary when she found that 
the tea and toast she had prepared were evidently 
relished; yet w'hen she returned to the kitchen and 
saw the disorder around her, she began to weep. 
She knew not what to do. How she longed for 


lo The Working-Ma7i s Loaf. 

some one to advise and comfort her ! Just then, as 
if in answer to her wish, while tears were streaming 
down her cheeks, a neatly dressed old lady opened 
the kitchen door and came in. 

“I am one of your neighbors, and I wanted to 
see you,” said the visitor cheerily. “ I knew your 
mother was expecting you, and I thought, may be 
you would be glad to see even an old woman like 
me. I hope you aren’t home-sick.” 

“ I am afraid I was, but you look so much like one 
of Aunt Rachel’s neighbors, I think my home-sick- 
ness will go away. I can’t tell you how glad I am 
you came,” responded Mary. 

“ I am glad, too. I had a daughter by the name of 
Mary, and the glint of her hair was like yours. I 
am always looking to find one like her. She and 
her father left me the same week, and I have missed 
them ever since ; ’though there was never a better 
boy than my Ernest. Ernest Landaff is his name, 
and I am Mrs. Landaff. I was on my way to market. 
I thought perhaps you would be going out to buy 
your dinner.” 

“I don’t know how to buy a, dinner. I have only 
twenty-five cents for everything. It is all different 
from what it was at Uncle Daniel’s, and mother 
says she can’t help me. I don’t know how to begin.” 

“What have you in the house?” 

“A little tea and some butter. It took all the 
bread for breakfast, and there isn’t any flour.” 

“ Then we must get some corn-meal. I will show 
you how to make good cakes with no better mixing 
than hot water and salt. You must have some cof- 


II 


The ]Vorking-Ma7i s Loaf. 

fee, with sugar and milk, for your father; then a few 
potatoes and some bones for a soup. You won’t 
have that ready until supper, but it will be some- 
thing to look forward to, and most men are willing 
to take soup for supper. You won’t mind my tell- 
ing you that men and boys are more likely to stay 
at home if things are made tidy and pleasant for 
them. If yb>ir father sees that you do well with 
twenty-five cents, he may give you more to-morrow; 
and as soon as you can, it will be best for you to 
buy in larger quantities. Get the boys on your 
side, and you can do almost anything.” 

“ Do you believe I can ? ” asked Mary. 

Yes, if you start right. Do your best, and ask 
God to bless your efforts,” was replied. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Landaff, you are a Christian; I know 
you are, or you wouldn’t have said that. It is the 
first Christian word I have heard since I came here. 
It is all so different from what it was at Uncle 
Daniel’s.” 

“ But remember, my dear, you can pray, as well 
here as there, and you can keep your hands busy at 
the same time. Your mother has been so poorly, it 
is no wonder the work has gone behind. If you 
have only corn-cake and butter for dinner, it will be 
relished better if your table is set neatly. You know 
how to do that.” 

“ Yes, ma’am, I do, and I will try to make the 
room so pleasant, mother will be glad to see it.” 


CHAPTER II. 


CORN-CAKE AND MILK. 

“ Well, well, Mary, this looks comfortable,” said 
Mr. Winter, when he came in to dinner. “ The cof- 
fee smells good too. And corn-cakes, I declare. I 
haven’t seen any on our table for years.” 

“ I hope you will like them,” was responded. 

‘‘No trouble about that. Here, Robert, go for 
two quarts of milk, and we will have an old-fash- 
ioned dinner. Don’t stop on the way.” 

Robert was soon back, and everybody praised the 
dinner, except Mary, who found it impossible to eat 
a single mouthful. 

“ Soup for supper, did you say ? ” remarked her 
father, as he was preparing to leave the house, after 
she had told him of her marketing. “ I never imag- 
ined a quarter could be made to go so far; but you 
will need money to buy some bread,” 

He threw down a dime, and when he had gone, 
Robert said : 

“ I can get ever so much broken bread for ten 
cents. It is just as good as the loaves, only it is 
broken.” 

“ Then get it ; and while you are away, I will 
make a cup of tea for mother. Perhaps we can per- 
suade her to come out here to drink it.” 

“ I wish you would. Mother has had a hard time. 

( 12 ) 


The Working-Ma 7 i s Loaf, 13 

I am old enough to know that, but it doesn't make 
things any better, to complain and not try." 

“ No, Robert, it doesn’t. I am going to try, and 
I want you to help me." 

‘‘ I will. I am not the worst fellow in the world, 
and may be, if you should take me in hand, you 
might make something of me." 

There was a quiver in the boy’s voice as he said 
this, and a tear in his eye as he hurried from the 
room ; leaving Mary to wonder at what had tran- 
spired. She was thankful the dinner had proved a 
success ; but there was still much to be done, and 
she was so tired, it seemed impossible for her to 
work on through the day. Yet when Robert re- 
turned, bringing a generous supply of bread for 
both supper and breakfast, she tried to look on the 
bright side. 

“ I never got half so much before, and it is all 
good too," he said pleasantly ; adding : “ If you 
were like Mrs. Landaff, you would put all the small 
pieces by themselves, and make the rest look so nice, 
there wouldn’t anybody mind its being broken." 

Do you know how to do it ? " 

“ I guess I could. If I should wash my hands 
real clean, should you be willing I should try ? " 

I should be glad to have you." 

“ Then here goes, and after it is all spread on the 
plates, you coax mother out here. I should think 
she would do almost anything you want her to. I 
would. I tell you, Mary, it has been pretty awful 
since we moved here. This is the worst place we 
ever lived in. We always had one room besides 


14 The Working-Mans Loaf. 

the kitchen and bedrooms. The bedrooms were a 
good deal larger too. It is awful dark and poky 
here when it storms.'’ 

it would be lighter, if we should give the win- 
dows a good scrubbing." 

“ So it would, and I am ready to help you do it. 
Mother used to keep things cleaner. I did the best 
I could with the floor yesterday, but it don’t look 
very well. The boys wouldn’t let it dry without 
being tracked." 

Where are the boys now?" 

“Somewhere around. They will keep pretty well 
out of the way until they get hungry." 

“ But they ought not to be in the street. Don’t 
they go to school ? " 

“ They did, before we came here. Since then, they 
have been too ragged to go anywhere decent." 

“About Sunday, Robert. What do you all do 
then ? " 

“ The same as other days. What did you do at 
Uncle Daniel’s ? " 

“We went to church and Sunda3''-school. Then 
we read our Bibles and our library books, and when 
it was so dark we couldn’t see without a lamp, we 
sung and talked together. Aunt Rachel said we 
ought to make a Sabbath day’s journey towards 
Heaven." 

“ If that is the way you lived there, you can’t 
ever live with us. Father don’t mind anything 
about Sunday. He isn’t a bit like Aunt Rachel." 

“ I am afraid he isn’t ; but they were brought 
up together, and she told me I must try to lead 


The Working-Mail s Loaf, 15 

him back into the right path. Do you think I 
could ? ” 

“ Perhaps so, if you could get him to stop drink- 
ing beer.” 

“ Does mother drink beer ? ” asked Mary half un- 
der her breath. 

She does when she can get it, but father don’t 
let her have much lately,” was replied. 

Do you drink it ? ” 

No, I don’t. I used to, but I stopped that and 
tobacco more than a year ago. Will drinks it when 
he can get it, and he smokes too.” 

“ What of Clem and Luke ? ” 

“Well, Clem isn’t so bad, but if Luke goes on as 
he has begun, he will be the worst of the lot. We 
are a bad set, anyway, and it must be dreadful for 
you to come to live with us.” 

“ I was sorry to come, but Aunt Rachel said it 
was my duty, and if I can make things better, I 
sha’n’t mind the hard work. If you will stand by 
me, we carj do a good deal.” 

“ I will. You can count on me every time,” said 
the boy heartily. “ It was a letter you wrote to me 
that made me give up beer and tobacco.” 

“ But, Robert, it takes money to buy beer and to- 
bacco. How did you get the money ? ” 

“ Worked for it. Sometimes I did jobs ’round the 
saloons, and almost anything else. Men and boys 
will do more to get tobacco and liquor than they 
will to get something to eat when they are hungry. 
Didn’t you know that?” 

“ I don’t know much about tobacco and liquor. 


1 6 The Working-Mafi s Loaf. 

except what I have read ; only I remember that 
father used to smoke. Uncle Daniel won’t have to- 
bacco on his premises. The boys have all promised 
never to use it ; and as for beer, or liquor of any 
kind,* I don’t believe they know how it tastes.” 

“ I wish I didn’t, and I wish my brothers didn’t.” 

“ Does father like to have them drink beer and 
smoke ? ” 

“ You wouldn’t think he did, by the way he scolds 
them when he sees them at it ; but he doesn’t seem 
to care much, if they only keep out of his sight.” 

While thus talking, the bread had been nicely as- 
sorted ; the best slices being saved for mother, and 
laid on the only really pretty plate in the house. 

“Now, if I had some of Aunt Rachel’s currant 
jelly, I believe I could tempt mother to come to the 
table,” said Mary. 

At that moment Will looked into the kitchen, 
when his brother asked him if he had any money. 

“Yes ; earned it since dinner,” was replied. 

“ Lend it to me, to get some jelly for mother,” 
said Robert ; “ I will pay you to-morrow.” 

“ But I want it now. I am awful dry, and I haven’t 
had a smoke to-day.” 

A boy twelve years old, he seemed to consider 
that these two facts entitled him to sympathy ; and 
without staying to hear more, closed the door be- 
hind him. 

“Such depravity ! ” exclaimed his sister. “What 
will become of him ! What is father thinking about, 
to let him go on so ! ” 

“ A man who does as father does can’t say much 


The Working-Mail s Loaf. 17 

to his boys for following his example,” answered 
Robert, with an air of indifference. 

“No, I don’t suppose he can; but I wish I was 
back at Uncle Daniel’s, and didn’t know anything 
about it,” sobbed Mary, adding presently : “ Why, 
you aren’t even respectable. I have read about peo- 
ple living so, but I never expected to live so myself.” 

“Don’t cry; don’t,” urged the boy, comirfg close 
to his sister, and resting his hand upon her shoulder. 
“ I know it is dreadful for you. I have wanted to 
run away and get out of it ; but when I knew you 
was coming, I thought perhaps there would be a 
chance for me here at home. There is an evening 
school, not very far off, where they teach just what I 
want to learn. If I could be clean and decent, to 
go there evenings, I shouldn’t mind working days.” 

“You can be and you shall be,” responded Mary, 
throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. 
“ If it depends upon me, you shall have a chance to 
be somebody. Aunt Rachel says where two are 
agreed about anything, they can do wonders, with 
the Lord’s blessing; and, Robert, we will ask the 
Lord to bless us, won’t we ? ” 

“ I am afraid I don’t know about that, but I will 
do the best I can, and you must do the rest,” an- 
swered Robert to this proposition, and so their com- 
pact was sealed. 

Then their thoughts turned to their mother, who, 
after much persuasion, was induced to come into the 
kitchen; not, however, until she had complained of 
weakness, and asked Robert if there was any ale or 
beer in the house. He was glad to be able to tell 


2 


1 8 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

her there was none ; and as she had no money, 
she did not presume to say more about it. He en- 
deavored to interest her in some plans for the im- 
provement of their home ; but she professed herself 
utterly indifferent. She drank the tea prepared for 
her, and ate two slices of toast, saying, at last, that 
she wished the soup had been ready for dinner. 

‘‘Your father will like it. He always liked soup, 
and I am glad Mary could get so much with so little 
money. Mrs. Landaff is a good friend to have, 
’though she gives her advice sometimes when she 
isn’t asked. Her son has the letting of some of the 
houses ’round here, and that is why they moved into 
this street.” 

“ Ernest Landaff isn’t much like the other men on 
the street,” replied Robert. “ I wish I knew as 
much as he does.” 

“ I wish you could have a chance in the world, but 
your father says you must go to work, and I sup- 
pose you must,” said his mother. 

“All the same, I am going to have a chance, 
mother. Mary is going to help me ; and if we all 
try together, we can make things better here at 
home; I know we can.” 

Meanwhile, Mary had commenced a thorough 
work in her mother’s room, which she continued, 
notwithstanding objections and protestations; effect- 
ing such an improvement as to call forth some 
words of commendation. 

“Your Aunt Rachel was always particular, and so 
was your grandmother,” said Mrs. Winter. “Your 
father used to talk a good deal about it, but he 
don’t care how things look now.” 


CHAPTER III. 


LIKE HER GRANDMOTHER. 

When Mr. Winter came from his work that even- 
ing, he looked around for a minute, and then went 
into the shed, where on a rough bench he found a 
basin of water and some soap; while hanging above 
it were a clean towel, a bit of looking-glass, and a 
comb. With these conveniences before him, he 
could not neglect to use them; and this done, he 
wished he was better dressed. 

Supper was on the table, which was covered with 
a white cloth; and what was more surprising still, 
the boys presented an array of clean faces. The 
soup was good, and the coffee, although not strong, 
was palatable. Mary thought she had never been 
so tired before in all her life, but her father more 
than repaid her for what she had done, when he 
said : 

“You make me think of your grandmother. She 
knew how to do everything in the best way. You 
have done so well with your marketing, I will give 
you fifty cents for to-morrow; and I may as well 
give it to you now, before I have a chance to spend 
it.” 

“ Thank you,” she replied, as she took the money; 
thinking of what she would buy for her mother. 

Her father lingered a little after eating his sup- 

(19) 


20 


The Working-Man's Loaf, 

per, yet she was not disappointed when he left the 
house, knowing, as she did, that he would probably 
spend the remainder of the evening in a beer-saloon. 
Robert kept his brothers with him, and induced 
them to go early to bed. Mrs. Winter desired to be 
left to herself, and Mary was glad when the last 
work for the day was done, and she could go to the 
closet-like room where she was to sleep. As soon 
as he heard her step, Robert came in, apologizing 
for his intrusion by saying : 

“ I wanted to tell you how much good you have 
done me. I begin to feel as though I might, some- 
time, know more and be better than I am now. Are 
you going to read in the Bible?” he asked, as she 
took the precious book in her hand. 

*‘yes, I am,” she replied. “I read in it ever)^ 
day.” 

“Then let me hear you.” 

After reading a chapter, Mary waited for a min- 
ute, and then falling upon her knees, prayed earnest- 
ly for a blessing upon each member of the family; 
calling each by name. Rising, she turned with a 
questioning glance to her brother, who said : 

“ I will do my part of the work, and I know I 
shall be better. I can’t help it, now you are here.” 

The next morning was not so bad as the preced- 
ing. The children were all in their places at the 
table; and after breakfast, without really knowing 
how it was accomplished, they were all busy in help- 
ing to carry out their sister’s plans. The little yard 
in front of the house was cleared of rubbish. The 
shed was swept ; the outside of the windows was 


21 


The Working‘Mafi s Loaf. 

washed ; and plenty of water was brought for wash- 
ing clothes. 

Will, who was an inveterate whittler, had been 
furnished with a pattern for a bracket, which he 
proposed to cut from an old cig^r-box. When told 
of what his cousins had accomplished in that way, 
he said resolutely : 

“ I can do as well as they can. I don’t allow any 
boy to go ahead of me, when I get started.” 

“ Then I hope you will start in the right way, 
and ” 

“And what?” he asked, looking to Mary, who 
had left her sentence unfinished. 
y “ Stick to teetotal temperance.” 

“ So that’s it, is it,” he responded with a knowing 
wink. “ Is that what they are doing at Uncle Dan- 
iel’s?” 

“ Yes, every one of them,” was replied. 

“ I don’t know about that for us. You see, we 
, live in the city, and that makes a difference.” 

Here the subject was dropped. Mary was ready 
to go out, and she thought Will could be safely left 
to his own reflections. Presuming upon the kind- 
ness of Mrs. Landaff, she called to ask further 
advice. 

“ You have started well,” said this neighbor, when 
told what had been accomplished. “Now if you 
have patience to continue in well doing, you will be 
sure of a reward.” 

“ I shall do as well as I can,” answered the young 
girl, who was fast learning some of the hard lessons 
of life. 


22 


The Working-Man's Loaf. 

With Mrs. Landaff’s assistance, the half-dollar 
was judiciously expended. On their way home, 
they were met by Robert, who took his sister’s par- 
cels, asking her to hurry. 

“ Mother came out and wanted Will to get her 
some beer,” he whispered confidentially. There is 
an old woman that lives in an alley back of us who 
keeps beer to sell, and takes almost anything for 

pay. I told Will not to stir a step, but There 

he is, this minute.” 

Robert left the parcels, and with a bound rushed 
after his brother, whom he presently led into the 
kitchen. When Mrs. Winter saw them, she asked 
no questions, but with a look upon her face ex- 
pressing both mortification and disappointment, she 
went to her room. 

“ There, now, don’t you ever bring a drop of beer 
into this house for anybody,” said Robert, as he re- 
leased the culprit. 

“ Mother told me to get it, and Luke heard her,” 
was replied sulkily. “ It isn’t any worse for her to 
drink beer, than it is for father. Beer is good. It 
makes folks strong, and I like it.” 

Here followed an animated discussion of its 
merits, and of the value of money. In this dis- 
cussion all took part, and several questions were 
settled by vote, which Mary took care should seem 
of some importance. Later in the day, she went to 
her mother’s room and asked abruptly : 

“ What is to be done about the boys’ clothes ? 
They are ragged and dirty. If you would help 
about it, we could make them more decent, but I 


23 


The Working-Man s Loaf, 

can never do it alone. I am sure you would be bet- 
ter if you would go out of doors a little. We should 
all be so much happier, too, to have you with us. 
It must be lonely for father when he comes home, 
and you not ready to meet him.” 

“ Your father don’t care, if he can only get all the 
beer and tobacco he wants,” replied the woman in a 
querulous tone. “ He drinks and smokes so much, 
there isn’t anything left for the rest of us. A glass 
of beer does me good when I am so weak and faint, 
but he wants it all himself.” 

“ I don’t believe beer does anybody good,” re- 
plied Mary. “ Anyway, I should think things were 
about as bad as they can be here. Robert and I are 
going to do the best we can. We don’t mean to be 
dragged down by beer or any other kind of liquor. 
Ij^ Robert can’t go to a day-school, he is going in 
the evening, and I am going to help him all I can 
to be a good scholar.” 

“ That sounds like your father. He used to think 
he could do anything he undertook.” 

I don’t believe but what he can, mother. He 
can give up drinking beer, and save money to buy 
a pretty home, if we all help him.” 

“ Why, child, what has come over you ! ” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Winter, raising her head from the pil- 
low, and looking earnestly in her daughter’s face. 

'‘Nothing new, mother. Aunt Rachel brought 
me up to be sure of some things. She makes up 
her mind what is best to do, and then she does it.” 

“ You can’t expect me to be like your Aunt 
Rachel,” said Mrs. Winter. 


24 The Working-Man s Loaf, 

“ I wish you were,” said Mary involuntarily, and 
then blamed herself for having spoken without tak- 
ing time to choose her words. 

“I didn’t think you would turn against me so 
soon,” sobbed the unhappy mother. “ Your father 
finds fault with me, and that is all I can bear. I 
know it is hard for you, child,” she added in a dif- 
ferent tone. 

“ It is hard,” was replied gently. “ I ami used to 
work, but I have always had some time for rest, 
every day, even when Aunt Rachel was sickest. I 
am willing to do all I can, but it is too much for me 
to do all the work needed in this family. I can not 
live in a dirty house, and see the boys covered with 
rags, instead of wearing decent clothes.” 

“ What will you do ? ” 

“ If I can not have things njore respectable, I 
shall write to Aunt Rachel about it, and ask her 
what my duty is.” 

“Your father would feel dreadfully to have her 
know how he lives.” 

“ Then he must live differently. We must all go 
to work together and have a comfortable home.” 

“ Mother Winter over again, and I never could 
suit her,” sighed her daughter-in-law, when Mary 
had returned to the kitchen. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DISCOURAGED. 

is no more than I expected,” said Mrs. Landaff, 
in response to Robert Winter’s announcement that 
his sister was too sick to go down-stairs. “ A girl 
like her can hardly go through such a fortnight’s 
work as she has had, without suffering for it. I 
know you have helped her all you could, but the 
hardest of it has come upon her.” 

“ I know it, Mrs. Landaff, and I don’t know what 
we shall do now. I got breakfast, myself, this 
morning, and we boys washed the dishes and made 
things look as well as we could. But there is the 
dinner to get.” 

“ What did your father say ? ” 

Said he was sorry about Mary, and I must take 
good care of her. There is another thing that 
troubles me, Mrs. Landaff. Now the new beer- 
saloon is opened at the head of the street, I am 
afraid it will be worse for father, and I am afraid 
lilie boys will go there, in spite of all I can do. 
Then we shall be worse off than ever before. It 
seems as* though the beer men have their saloons in 
the very worst places for everybody. I wish all the 
beer in the world was poured into the ocean, and 
there couldn’t be any more made.” 

** I wish so too, Robert ; but our wishing will not 

(25) 


26 


The Working-Marl s Loaf. 

make it so. We can only try to prevent people 
drinking it. The first thing to do now is to look 
after Mary.” 

“ She wanted me to ask you to please come over 
and see her. She said it would make her feel bet- 
ter. Mother don’t do anything for her.” 

Mrs. Landaff needed no urging. Accompanying 
Robert, she went to his sister’s room, which she 
found as clean as it could be made with only soap 
and water ; although, at best, it was a dreary place, 
with its dingy walls, bare floor, and hard, narrow 
bed. 

‘‘You are so kind,” murmured the tired girl. “I 
didn’t know what to do but send for you.” 

“ Poor child ; I am glad you did. You have over- 
worked, and need rest. You must lie here until you 
feel better.” 

“ But how can I, when I am needed in the kitchen 
every minute ! I could not stand long enough to 
dress myself this morning. Oh, dear ! I wish I 
was back at Uncle Daniel’s. Sometimes I almost 
wish I never had gone there. Then I shouldn’t 
know the difference between there and here.” 

“The difference is what you need to know, so 
that you can teach the rest. Think of Robert. You 
have done a work for him, already, that will pay for 
a good many hours of headache.” 

“ I couldn’t stay here if it was not for him.” 

“ He says you cooked enough, yesterday, to last 
two or three days.” 

“ I did, except meat It seemed so good to have 
enough to use, that I kept right on cooking. I 


27 


The Working-Mail! s Loaf. 

planned to do some sewing to-day, but I must give 
that up. I always have a sick day when I get too 
tired; but Aunt Rachel was so careful about it, 1 
didn’t have a great many. I am afraid mother will 
go back to her old discouraged ways, and there is 
something else too. Do you know about it ? ” 

“Yes, dear, I know all about it, and it don’t do 
any good for you to worry. You can trust Robert 
not to let anything wrong happen until you can go 
down. I always liked Rpbert, and Ernest says there 
is more good in him than you would think at first 
sight. He doesn’t have anything to do with the boys 
around here.” 

“ It seems to me a dreadful place to live.” 

“ There are many worse. But you are talking too 
much for the good of your head. Should you 
mind if I should send you a little table for your 
room ? I have one I am not using, and I should be 
glad to lend it to you.” 

“ I should be very thankful for it. I had a prettier 
room at Uncle Daniel’s.” 

“ Then I will have Robert bring it over. It will 
just fit this corner.” 

Mrs. Landaff said good-bye and was gone, but 
her visit had done much to comfort her young neigh- 
bor. Presently Will asked to come in, bringing tea 
and toast. Then appeared Robert with the little 
table and its scarlet cover, which so brightened up 
the room that it seemed far less dreary to its occu- 
pant. Clem brought her two geranium leaves he 
had found in the street, and her mother sent her a 
pleasant message. 


28 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

After all, there were some compensations for her 
illness, and thinking of these, she fell asleep. It 
was past noon when she awoke, and although she 
was still weak, her headache was quite gone, and 
she could think clearly. Just before supper, Robert 
opened her door softly, impatient to tell her of the 
opening of the new saloon. 

“They give free lunches all this afternoon and 
evening,” he said in an excited tone. “ Codfish and 
crackers, to make everybody dry, and then there will 
be a big sale of beer. That is the way they do. I have 
kept watch of the boys, so they haven’t been there, 
but father will be sure to go.” 

“ Will he go before he -comes home ? ” 

“ I don’t believe he will ; but then you can’t ever 
tell what such a man will do. O Mary, you don’t 
know ; but it is the beer, and tobacco, and liquor, 
that keeps folks so awfully poor. They live all 
around in these houses. Ernest Landaff says he is 
going to see what he can do about it.” 

“Are he and his mother very poor ? ” 

“ Not very, ’though they used to be richer. They 
lost lots of money that was in a bank and some other 
place ; and that is the reason Ernest has to work 
to take care of his mother. He expects to be better 
off sometime, and I hope he will. He is just splen- 
did. He has asked me, two or three times, to go to 
Sunday-school, but I didn’t say anything to you 
about it, because I haven’t decent clothes to wear, 
and I can’t get them either. When I go to work I 
will have them ; but, Mary, there are two places 
where I won’t work, no matter what father says. I 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 29 

won’t work in a cigar factory, or in a liquor-saloon 
of any kind.” 

What if father tells you to ? ” 

“I will run away to Uncle Daniel’s, and get him 
to find me a place with some farmer. You see I have 
thought it all over. I have made up my mind and I 
will stick to it. There are lots of hard places where 
boys work, but I don’t mind the hard.” 

Never mind about that now, Robert. There will 
be a way out of our trouble if we only do as well as 
we can. This morning, I was so^ discouraged, I 
thought it would be easier to die than try to go any 
further, but I feel differently now. I didn’t know 
there was so much wickedness in the world till I 
came here, and it seems to me that most of it comes 
from what Uncle Daniel calls the cursed liquor.” 

“It does. Why, it is just awful. Men who begin 
with beer don’t very often stop with it. They take 
to whisky after a while. I think father drinks whis- 
ky sometimes.” 

“ Oh ! don’t say that, or I shall be discouraged 
again. I want to look on the bright side if there is 
any.” 

“You must make it before you can look on it.” 


CHAPTER V. 


THE BURSTING OF THE STORM. 

Robert knew from appearances that “ a storm 
was brewing,” yet wisely forbore to trouble his sister 
with anticipations of evil. Since her illness her 
father had treated her with more consideration, giv- 
ing her money for various purposes without com- 
plaint or dictation. All this was changed, however, 
when one morning she asked for her usual allow- 
ance. 

“ Make the most of it, for I don’t know when you 
will get any more,” he said surlily. “ The company 
talk of cutting down our wages, and if they do I 
shall strike. It is all I can do to live now. A cut- 
down would starve us out, and I shall strike.” 

Strike ! ” repeated Mary. 

“Yes; quit work until the company comes to 
terms,” answered her father. 

“And so earn nothing?” 

“Yes; I am not a slave to work for starvation 
wages. If they won’t give me fair wages, I won’t 
work.” 

“ How much will they cut you down ? ” 

“ Ten per cent, is what they are talking of, and 
that will make forty cents a day difference with 
me. 

“ Forty cents ! ” exclaimed the daughter in a tone 
(30) 


The Working-MarCs Loaf, 31 

expressing the utmost astonishment. Do you earn 
four dollars a day ? " 

“.Yes, about that,” was replied with some hesita- 
tion. 

“ That is more than a thousand dollars a year. 
Aunt Rachel would say we ought to live on half of 
that, and live 'well to0.” 

“She don’t know anything of what it costs to 
live here in the city, where we have to buy every- 
thing we eat, and pay rent besides. They own their 
house and farm.” 

“But I have heard Uncle Daniel say he earned the 
money to pay for them, and he never had more than 
twenty-five dollars a month besides his board. There 
was a small mortgage on the farm when he was mar- 
ried, and he and Aunt Rachel worked hard to pay 
it. They would think themselves rich if they had 
five hundred dollars a year to live on.” 

“ So should we, but we don’t have it now,” said 
Robert. “Men earn enough ; that isn’t the trouble; 
it is the way they spend their money. Most of it 
goes for beer, and whisky, and tobacco ; and the 
women and children have to live on the leavings.” 

At this, Mr. Winter’s face was fairly livid with 
rage, yet he did not deny his son’s statement. He 
only replied : 

“ When you act for yourself, we will see what you 
do with your money.” 

“ Yes, sir ; but I can tell you now, that I shall have 
decent clothes and a decent house to live in. What 
I earn won’t go for beer or tobacco,” 

“ You can do as you please, and so shall I,” was 


32 The Working-Man's Loaf. 

responded, as if thus the whole matter was set- 
tled. 

“ But, father, here we are, and we can not any of 
us do as we please. We are obliged to do as we can, 
and you are the one to decide what we can do. I 
don’t want to speak disrespectful to you, but I think 
it is dreadful to live as we do. Now I know how 
much you earn, I know there is no need of it. We 
could live decently on half what you earn, and we 
don’t live decently now, do we, father ? ” 

Mary waited for a reply to her question, and re- 
ceiving none, asked another : 

“ Father, wouldn’t you like to live in a pleasant 
house, with nice, clean rooms, and have a garden, 
with trees and flowers ? ” 

“ Of course I should like it, if I could afford it. 
Who wouldn’t ? But I don’t intend to be catechized 
by my children, or told what I ought to do. I can 
manage my own affairs without any of their help.” 

Mary heartily wished this was true, although she 
did not say so. Had she been like many young girls, 
she would have given up in despair, and made no 
further effort to stem the tide. ‘ But perseverance 
was one of her marked characteristics, and there 
was too much at stake to be easily relinquished. So 
she struggled on until help appeared in the person 
of Aunt Rachel, who came unheralded. 

Brother Robert ! ” exclaimed the fine-looking 
woman, who met Mr. Winter as he came into the 
kitchen, where she had already made herself quite 
at home. 

You here, Rachel ! ” he responded, while his man- 


The Working-Man! s Loaf, 33 

ner betrayed the utmost surprise, not unmingled 
with regret. 

“ Yes, I am here. I wished to see how Mary would 
manage as a housekeeper, and besides, Robert, I 
wished to see you, my only brother. Mary had been 
with us so long, she seemed like one of our own. 
The boys miss her, too, as much as my husband and 
I do, and they told me to be sure and take her back 
with me ; but we won’t talk of that now.” 

“ I don’t think we will. We never can spare her 
again very long at a time. She makes me think of 
mother every day.” 

She is a good deal like her grandmother. I could 
always see that. If she undertakes to do anything, 
she is likely to go through with it. You and I have 
changed since we saw each other before. It has been 
longer than it ought to be.” * 

“ I don’t see as you have changed much, Rachel. 
Your cheeks are a little fuller, and you have some 
gray hairs, but you are nearly the same as five years 
ago. / have changed.” 

Yes, you have. You have grown stouter, and you 
have more color in your face. I hope your health is 
good.” 

Pretty good generally.” 

Rachel Stearns talked on, seeking thus to cover 
her own feelings, as well as the evident chagrin of 
her brother. He had not told her that he was glad 
to see her, and indeed, she could not help knowing 
that he regretted her coming. Mrs. Winter, too, was 
troubled at the unexpected visit, but the boys were 
delighted. 

2* 


34 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

“ Where will Aunt Rachel sleep ? ” asked Robert, 
anxious for her comfort. 

She must sleep with me ; there is no other 
place,” replied Mary. 

“But such a small room, and such a hard bed. 
Father is ashamed ; I know he is, and I am glad of it. 
Mother is ashamed too. Perhaps it will make her 
start up to do better. Anyway, Aunt Rachel has 
come at the right time. Ernest Landalf says the 
men in the shop where father works are going to 
strike to-morrow or the day after, and, I don’t know 
certain, but I think father has engaged a place for 
me in a cigar factory. I mean to tell Aunt Rachel 
all about it.” 

Mr. Winter did not go out after supper except for 
a short smoke. He devoted the evening to his sis- 
ter, with w^iom he talked of old times and old 
friends, their conversation at length drifting back to 
their own families and fortunes. 

“ The farm has given us a good living, with plenty 
of hard work,” remarked Mrs. Stearns. “We don’t 
expect to make money as you do, but we manage to 
lay by a little every year, and now the boys are get- 
ting older, their father makes some ventures he 
would hardly think of making alone. Our boys are 
all scholars. How is it with yours ? ” 

“ I don’t know so much about that, perhaps, as I 
ought to,” replied Mr. Winter. “ The truth is, I have 
left the children mostly for their mother to manage. 
I go to my work pretty early, and when I get through 
at night, I am too tired to do much more than get 
ready for bed. I should be glad to give my boys a 


35 


The Working-Mart s Loaf, 

chance to go to school, but what with sickness and 
hard times, I haven’t managed to do any more than 
make the year come ’round ; so I don’t see any way 
but they must go to work.” 

“Our boys have always -worked, but they have 
never missed school when there was one, any more 
than Mary has. We had planned to send her and 
Nelson to an academy, next year. It would require 
economy to do it ; but we are used to economy, and 
they would learn enough to pay all the cost. I 
wonder if you know how good a scholar Mary is.” 

“ I am afraid not. She has been so busy about the 
house since she came home, that we haven’t thought 
of much else. When her mother gets stronger I 
hope she will have an easier time.” 


I 


CHAPTER VI. 


AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 

Mr. Winter had received a new revelation. He 
had thought of his daughter only as a worker, 
bound to give him her best service. True, he had 
known that it could not be a pleasant change for 
her to leave the old farm-house, in which she had 
spent five years, and come to such a home as he 
would give her, but he had by no means appreciated 
the sacrifice she thus made. It was because of her 
delicate health that she had been intrusted to Aunt 
Rachel’s care, and now that she was well and strong, 
her place seemed to her father to be with him, al- 
though he had little to offer in return for the ser- 
vices he claimed. 

Thinking of all this, he passed a sleepless night, 
and arose the next morning in no enviable frame of 
mind ; when, to add to his discomfort, his sister was 
the first to meet him. 

Do you go to your work before breakfast ? ” she 
asked, as he turned to greet her. 

“ No, but I was going out to do an errand,” he 
answered. “ I rather think some meat is needed for 
breakfast.” 

“ Then I will go with you,” was responded heart- 
ily. “I am always an early riser, and I should like 
to see how people look about here when they first 
get up.” 


(36) 




37 


The Working-Man s Loaf. 

Mr. Winter knew his sister too well to attempt to 
leave her behind ; so he made a virtue of necessity, 
and went to the nearest market instead of the 
saloon. For once, he was obliged to dispense with 
his mug of beer, as an appetizer for breakfast; 
which, however, was so much better than usual, that 
he did it ample justice. 

He went out directly, but after walking a short 
distance,, he turned back and called to Robert, who 
went to him at once, when he said : 

“ I engaged a place for you in Hunter’s cigar fac- 
tory, on Cross Street, yesterday, and I told him you 
would be there in good season to-day. So you can 
go right along now, without going to the house 
again.” 

“No, sir; L shall not work in a cigar factory,” 
answered the boy. “ I promised, and wrote it out 
in black and white, more than a year ago, that I 
never would have anything to do with tobacco again 
as long as I live. I am bound to keep my promise, 
and I couldn’t if I went into the cigar factory to 
work. Besides, I hate the very thought of it. I will 
do anything else, except to work in a drinking- 
saloon. I don’t care how hard or how dirty it is.” 

“You will work where I put you,” responded Mr. 
Winter, so angry that it was with difficulty he could 
speak. 

“ Yes, sir ; except in a cigar factory or drinking- 
salobn,” was the fearless reply. 

“ Has Mary been putting you up to this ? ” 

“ No, sir ; I put myself up to it. I have thought 
of it a good while and made up my mind.” Then 


38 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

the boy’s voice changed to one of entreaty, rather 
than defiance, as he said: “Father, I want to be 
somebody, and have a chance in the world, the same 
as my cousins. I don’t expect to be helped as they 
are, but I want to be left so I can do for myself, I 
don’t want to grow up like the men in this neigh- 
borhood. I should rather die.” 

This appeal touched the father’s heart ; yet too 
proud to acknowledge it, he gruffly bade Robert to 
leave him and say no more. 

Mrs. Stearns had not expected to find her brother’s 
family living as they should, yet she was wholly un- 
prepared for what she saw. Mary had done all that 
a young girl could do imder such unfavorable cir- 
cumstances; but there was needed a thorough and 
radical change, quite beyond the power of any one 
person to effect. She was considering how far she 
might venture in the way of remonstrance and ad- 
vice, when her nephew rushed in, exclaiming : 

“ There, Mary, I have done it. Father told me to go 
to work in a cigar factory, and I told him I wouldn’t.. 
I said I would go anywhere else, except into a drink- 
ing-saloon; but I never will work there or in a cigar 
factory.” 

“ Cigar factory ! ” repeated Aunt Rachel, taking 
the boy by the shoulders, and turning him around 
so that she could look him squarely in the face. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “It is a place full 
of tobacco. You have to handle it and breathe it, 
and almost eat it ; and I can’t.” 

The strain had been so great, that here Robert 
broke down ; bursting into tears and sobbing bit- 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 39 

terly. When he could control himself, his first 
words were : 

Aunt Rachel, I suppose you think I am an awful 
wicked boy, to tell my father I won’t do anything ; 
but if you knew how hard I have tried to do better 
than I used to, I don’t believe you would blame 
me. 

“ I don’t blame you,” was replied. “ If it is nec- 
essary for you to earn money to help support the 
family, there must be some better place for you to 
work than in a cigar factory. What wages would 
you get there ? ” 

I don’t know. I want to learn father's trade, 
but I want to learn more than he has. If I could 
work as well as he can, and draft for myself, you 
see I should have a good deal better chance than 
he has had. I want to learn more about arithmetic, 
too, and I want to learn to keep books, besides lots 
of other things.” 

“You ought to go to school. That is what all of 
you boys ought to do.” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; but we haven’t had decent clothes. 
Mary has washed and mended for us, and father 
bought me and Will new suits, day before yesterday. 
That is why we look so much better than Clem and 
Luke. It is a shame ; and I wish there never could 
be any more beer and tobacco in the \yhole world. 
That is what father spends his money for, instead 
of for what he ought to. There, I didn’t mean to 
say it, but I can’t take it back, and every word of it 
is true.” 

“ I am glad you are on the right side of the ques- 


40 The Working-Man s Loaf, 

tion,” said Mrs. Stearns, thus breaking the awkward 
silence after Robert's outburst, 

“ I am, and so is Mary ; and we are trying to 
bring the boys around.” 

“ I hope you will succeed, and of e^!^urse your 
mother will help you.” 

I can’t help much about anything,” responded 
Mrs. Winter. “ I wish things were different, but I 
can’t change them.” 

. “ It is hard for you, sister, I know, but I can 
not think of any situation I could be in, where I 
shouldn’t keep trying to right what was wrong, and 
make the most of all I had.” 

“ I never was like you, Rachel.” 

It is not necessary you should be.* But I have 
come to stay with you two weeks, and in that time 
I want to help every one of you all I can. You 
would have better health if you lived in brighter, 
sunnier rooms, and went out of doors every day. I 
am not sure but the best thing you can do is to go 
home with me and spend the summer.” 

‘‘ I wish I could go,” cried Robert. > 

“ What could Mary do without you ? ” 

“ She might go too.” 

“ Not to leave your father. I don’t see yet how 
we are to bring things around, but there will be a 
way. There always is, when it is really best there 
should be.” 

“That is what Mrs. Landaff says. Aunt Rachel. 
Next to you, I guess she is the best woman in the 
world. She is the one who told Mary about market- 
ing, and sent her the little table. She comes in al- 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 41 

most every day, too, to bring mother something 
nice to eat. Her son Ernest is splendid, and I want 
to be like him.” 

Will and Clem and Luke did not talk much in 
the presence of their aunt, but they were interested 
listeners to all that she said ; and before she had 
been with them twenty-four hours, they were ready 
to indorse her opinions and decisions. 

“ Except what she says about beer and tobacco,” 
whispered Luke, who was not yet nine years old. 
“ I don’t believe a woman knows as well about 
them as boys and men do.” 

“You don’t, do you?” rejoined Robert, who had 
heard the remarks not intended for his ears. “Aunt 
Rachel knows more than a thousand boys like you, 
and the best thing you can do is to do as she tells 
you.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


blunt’s saloon. 

Mary and Robert Winter intended to keep their 
brothers under strict supervision, but in some way 
Clem made his escape, and after a short absence, re- 
turned in a state of great excitement. Beckoning 
to Robert to come into the shed, he whispered : 

Father is getting drunk in Blunt’s saloon. There 
are ever so many men there, drinking whisky, and 
there’s another man there talking to them, with a big 
gold chain, and a big ring on one of his fingers. I 
heard him tell them it would take something stronger 
than beer to carry them through the strike. He 
ordered the whisky, and I saw him wink at Blunt, 
when he said : ‘ Give them some of the best.’ 
You’ve got to do something about it, right off,” 
added Clem, wondering at his brother’s silence. 

I was thinking,” replied Robert. “ I don’t know 
what to do.” 

“ Then ask Aunt Rachel. She knows everything,” 

“Worse and worse,” sighed Mrs. Stearns, when 
the story was told to her. 

She, too, was forced to say that she did not know 
what to do. 

“ I believe it would kill me, to see my father 
drunk,” said Mary. “ If it comes to that, I shall 
give up entirely. It won’t do any good for me to 
(42) 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 43 

wor^:, when there is a drunken man coming home at 
night, and 1 can’t do it.” 

“Robert, will you go to walk with me?” asked 
Aunt Rachel quickly. 

“Yes, ma’am, and be glad to,” he answered. 

“ Then we will go in the direction of Blunt’s sa- 
loon.” 

“ Yes, ma’am and the boy’s heart beat quick 
and fast at the thought that his father would be 
found there. 

It was not far. They soon passed it; then re- 
passed it ; Mrs. Stearns looking resolutely at the 
door and window, but never once raising her eyes 
to the sign. 

“ I saw your father in that store, and I think I 
will go in, too,” she said, as the door was opened, 
revealing a group of men, among whom was he of 
whom she was in search. Robert was about to re- 
monstrate, when she gave him a warning glance, 
and entered the saloon. 

“ Perhaps this is not a proper place for ladies, but 
as I was out walking, I thought I would join my 
brother,” she remarked to the proprietor, who ad- 
vanced to meet her. 

By this time the man who was haranguing the 
crowd became aware of her presence, and changing 
his tone, began a plea for the wives and children of 
working-men. 

“ They should be cared* for; tenderly cared for,” 
he exclaimed. A man’s first duty is to his family, 
who should be dearer to him than his life. Every 
true man is ready to make any sacrifice for wife and 


44 The Working-Man s Loaf, 

children. It is for them he works, and of them he 
thinks through the long and often weary days.” 

While this was said, Mr. Winter would take a step 
toward his sister and then stop, as if undecided 
what to do; repeating the movement, and yet but 
slightly changing his position.- On the contrary, 
Mrs. Stearns stood motionles.s, with her eyes fixed 
upon the flashily dfessed orator, as though uncon- 
scious of another’s presence. 

“ I am sure the lady who has honored us will 
agree with me,” he said at length, bowing loW to her. 

I do agree with you in thinking that a man’s 
first duty is to his family,” she replied in a clear, 
distinct voice which could be heard by every one in 
the room. “ He should forego all selfish indul- 
gences, and find his happiness with his wife and 
children; who should be as devoted to him as he is 
to them. He should spend his money for their com- 
fort, instead of tobacco and liquor, as so many do.” 
Here she paused, looking deliberately around, after 
which she spoke hurriedly: “ I think this must be a 
drinking-saloon, and it is no place for me.” 

Had a thunderbolt fallen at her brother’s feet, he. 
would have been no more astonished. He knew not 
what to do. He had committed himself to a course 
of action his judgment condemned ; and despite 
the effect of the whisky he had drank, he knew the 
talk to which he had listened, and which he had ap- 
plauded, was the sheerest of nonsense. The speaker 
had his own ends to gain, and these accomplished, 
he cared no more for working-men than for the 
stones which paved the street. 


45 


The Working-Mail! s Loaf, 

Mr. Winter was the best workman in the shop ' 
where he was employed ; and until recently, the 
nicest jobs had been intrusted to him. But his 
hal?its were against him, and only that morning 
the foreman had remonstrated with him ; urging 
him to give up both beer and tobacco. At the time 
it was a grim satisfaction to think of the strike that 
was imminent, and which occurred without warn- 
ing, at a signal given by one who had no personal 
interest in any one concerned. 

Now what was to be done. He could ask himself 
this question, but he could not answer it; especially* 
since his sister had appeared upon the scene of 
action. 

“Give me some more whisky,” said the man 
standing beside him. “ It will take another glass to 
brace me up to meet my wife and sick girl. I prom- 
ised them a treat this 'evening, but here it goes 
down my throat.” 

The laugh which followed this poor attempt at 
wit grated harshly on Mr. Winter’s ears. He was 
not yet so far gone that he could make the claims 
of his family a subject of ridicule ; and disgusted 
with his surroundings, he turned his steps home- 
ward. 

^ “Well,” he said to his sister, who confronted him 
with a sad, stern face. 

“ It is anything but well,” she replied. “ Brother 
Robert, I wouM not have believed that I should 
live to be glad that our mother is dead; but I am 
glad now. Yes, Robert, I am thankful she did not 
live to see what I have seen to-day. It would have 


46 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

broken her heart, to know what I know; that you 
are almost, if not quite, a drunkard." 

“ Don’t talk so, Rachel, don’t. I loved mother as 
well as you did." 

Then why do you disgrace her after she is dead? 
How could you go to such a place as where I saw 
you this morning ! The men, there, were strikers, 
were they not ? " 

“Yes, they quit work, because their wages were 
cut down." 

“ And you ’’ 

“Well, I quit with the rest." 

“ Oh, Robert, how could you do it, with your 
family living in this unwholesome place, when you 
ought to give them a comfortable home ! If you 
earn nothing, how do you expect to live at all ? j 
Your Robert says you wanted him to go into a 
cigar factory to work. How much would he earn 
there ? " 

“ He would make pretty good wages, after he got 
well learned. He is quick and handy." 

“And you thought making cigars, that never 
ought to be made at all, was the best use you could 
put him to. Brother, it seems to me you must have 
lost your senses. It is dreadful for me to talk so to 
you, when we have been separated from each other 
so long; but what can I do ? What ought I to do? 
Ought I to see you go down to perdition, and drag 
your family down, without speaking a word to re- 
strain you ? Brother, have you forgotten the les- 
sons your mother taught you from the Bible, and 
the prayers she offered for you ? ’’ 


47 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 

Great drops of perspiration stood on the forehead 
of the man to whom these appeals were made, yet 
he remained silent. But his sister continued, until 
he cried at last : 

“What would you have me do ? I am no worse 
than thousands of others. I have not committed 
the unpardonable sin, that I should be considered 
an outcast.” 

“ God grant that you have not. I can not believe 
that you have, and for that reason I can pray for 
you. But tell me about your work and wages, so 
that I can understand better how you are situated.” 

Mr. Winter did this, making his usual complaint 
that it was all he could do to bring the months 
^around without running into debt. 

“ If you will give me one-half of what your wages 
would be, even after ten per cent, reduction, I will 
engage to provide comfortably for your family,” 
responded Mrs. Stearns. “ I will hire a better tene- 
ment, and in six months I will have it better fur- 
nished. Your children shall be well clothed, and 
the boys shall be kept in school. Give your family 
half the loaf, Robert, and see how they will thrive 
on it. You ought to be able to meet your own per- 
sonal expenses with what will pi'ovide for six, and 
give you a good home with them.”' 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ON A STRIKE. 

Mrs. Stearns decided to say no more to her 
brother in regard to his habits until further devel- 
opments. As a last resort, she appealed to his wife, 
whom she urged by every possible consideration to 
come to the rescue. 

If I thought it would be of any use, I would 
try,” replied Mrs. Winter. I don’t know but the ^ 
fault is partly mine. I never was much of a house- 
keeper. After the first month or two, I never. could 
quite suit my husband ; and. a woman don’t like to 
be told she can’t do as well as others, even if she 
knows it. I am glad you had Mary with you so 
long. She is a great deal more capable than she 
would have been if she had stayed with me.” 

“ I think she does as well as you could expect 
such a girl to do, but it is natural for her to want 
you to take the lead in managing the house.” 

“ I know it, Rachel. I can look^ back and see a 
good many times when I might have done better 
than I did. You don’t know, but after Luke was 
born, I was so tired, all the time, that a neighbor 
told me to drink beer, and I got so used to it, that 
when I don’t have it, I miss it. I don’t feel as 
though I could get along without it, but my hus- 
band says I never shall have any more.” 

(48) 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 


49 


“ I don’t believe you really want any more, sister, 
when you think what miserable stuff it is. You can 
have something better.” 

should like something better. I don’t want to 
make my family unhappy.” 

I know you don’t. You want to make them as 
happy as you can. Now, I have planned some work 
for to-day, and you can help about it if you will. 
I found a suit of brother Robert’s clothes that can 
be made over for Clem or Luke, whichever needs 
them most. The best place for cutting them is in 
Mary's room. The sun shines in there, so it is warm 
and pleasant, and you can lie down, if you get 
tired.” 

Mrs. Winter was finally persuaded to go to Mary's 
room, where, after talking for an hour or two with 
her sister-in-law, who managed to inspire her with 
something like hopefulness, she lay down and fell 
asleep ; sleeping so soundly that she was not called 
to dinner. 

There was plenty of well-cooked food, which the 
younger members of the family ate with a keen 
relish, but their sister was too much depressed to 
care for food. Their father drank his coffee in 
silence ; then went out, and after looking up and 
down the street for a few minutes, came back to the 
house. 

‘‘ Rachel, I have been thinking of what you said 
to me this morning,” he remarked, when left alone 
with his sister. “You were pretty hard on me, 
though I don’t bear you any ill-will. I wish I was 
different, I wish everything was different. I made 
3 


I 


50 The Working-Man s Loaf, 

a mistake in the beginning, but I don’t want you to 
think, because you saw me in a whisky-saloon this 
morning that I am a regular whisky-drinker. I only 
take a glass occasionally.” 

V “ You drink beer every day, don't you ? ” 

‘‘Yes, I do. I won’t deny that, and I am so de- 
pendent on it, that it would be hard work to get 
along without it.” ) 

“Try and see. Eat three good, square meals every 
day, with plenty of strong coffee for drink, and at 
the end of six months you will wonder you ever 
spent your money for such a vile decoction as beer. 

But now that you have quit work, what are you 
going to do for money ? ” 

“ There is more than one shop in the city where 
I can work.” 

“ Can you do better than where you have been ? ’* 

“ No, I don’t suppose I can.” 

“Then go back to the old place.” 

“ That would be too humiliating.” 

“It will come to that in the end, Robert. I have 
read of strikes, and the loss falls heaviest on the 
strikers. Would it be any more humiliating to go 
back, than to see your family suffering for the nec- 
essaries of life ? How much money have you to 
carry you over ? ” 

“ What I have earned this week, and there is help 
to come from the Union.” 

“ Don’t fold your hands and accept charity, when 
you ought to be earning good wages. When is your 
rent due ? ” 

“ Next week.” ' 


51 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 

“ That must be paid anyway.” 

‘‘ Yes, landlords have a sharp lookout for their 
tenants. I am paying more rent than I ought to, 
but this was the only place I could find when I 
moved here.” 

^‘Have you rented this place for any definite 
time ? ” 

“No, I am a tenant at will, free to go when I 
please.” 

Mr. Winter did not intend to be so communicative 
in regard to his business, but during a half hour’s 
conversation with his sister, she made herself quite 
thoroughly acquainted with the true condition of 
affairs. 

Here was a first-class workman who had earned 
good wages for twenty years, without laying by a 
single dollar. He had a family to support and chil- 
dren to educate, but he had spent comparatively 
little for them. He married a young, pretty girl, 
who had found life with him entirely different from 
what she had expected. He had disappointed her, 
and her children had wearied her. 

She had little energy and less of thrift, but she 
could and did appreciate the efforts made in her be- 
half. Many hands had been busily at work through 
the morning in improving her room. A broken shut- 
ter had been thrown wide open, and a pile of old 
lumber which obstructed the sunlight, had been re- 
moved. A picture hung over the old chest of draw- 
ers, and a clean white curtain was looped back with 
a bit of bright ribbon. 

From the first, Mary had intended t6 take her aunt 


52 The Working-Mails Loaf, 

to call on Mrs. Landaff, but there was so much need- 
ing to be done at home, that after introducing them 
to each other, she left them to make their own 
acquaintance. The visitor felt at once that she had 
found a friend, and the two were soon discussing 
ways and means for effecting a change in Mr. Win- 
ter’s household. 

My son has the letting of some houses, and there 
is a good tenement to be vacated next Monday,” 
said Mrs. Landaff. The rent is only a dollar a 
month more than your brother is paying, and there 
are two more rooms, with the sun shining into every 
one of them. If you could manage it, they would 
all feel better in a new place. There will be white- 
washing all through, and the front room to be paint- 
ed and papered, but the paper and paint can be put 
on after they move. We might go and look at the 
tenement.” 

. This they did, and it was in every way so much 
more desirable than the one now occupied by her 
brother’s family, that Mrs. Stearns determined the 
change should be made. Naturally, the strike was 
considered, when Mrs. Landaff remarked : 

“ There is a waste of time and money, as long as 
a man is idle, and besides, idle men are hard to in- 
fluence for good. It will cost your brother some- 
thing to go back to his work now, but it will be 
easier for him than three months from now.” 


CHAPTER IX 


HALF THE LOAF. 

The foreman of the shop in which Mr. Winter had 
been employed received a call from Mrs. Landaff, 
who was a friend of his mother. 

I wish you had asked almost anything else of 
me,” he said, after listening to her request. We 
make it a point never to urge the return of a man 
who leaves us because of dissatisfaction with his 
wages. Of course, we should offer no extra induce- 
ments. It was only after long and serious debate, 
that the company decided to make the reduction of 
which the men complain, and having made it, they 
will abide by it. Winter was the best man we have 
ever had until he became such a confirmed beer- 
drinker. Since then he has not been so reliable.” 

But wouldn’t you be willing to give him another 
chance, if he would give up drinking beer?” 

“ Certainly ; we should be glad to have him come 
back to-morrow morning, but he better throw away 
his pipe with his beer-mug.” 

^‘Well, Harold, would you mind going to him 
yourself to-morrow morning, and tell him what you 
have just told me ? You might be doing the best 
deed of all your life. It is the man’s soul I am plead- 
ing for, and the souls of his family. Remember 
that, Harold ; and remember, too, that in the day 

( 53 ) 


54 Working-Maris Loaf. 

of judgment, his soul may be required at your 
hands.’* 

“ Mrs. Landaff, you have gained your point, as 
usual. I will see Winter in the morning, and after 
what you have said, you can trust me to do my best 
to influence him.” 

True to his word, Harold Sutton appeared at the 
door of the poor home which beer had cursed, and 
presently Will Winter whispered to his aunt : 

‘‘The boss of the shop has come for father to go 
to work again. The others will be awful mad if he 
does, but I wouldn’t mind anything about that, 
would you ? ” 

“ No, I shouldn’t,” was replied, and then Will 
hastened back to his post of observation, from which 
he could see if not hear. 

The interview was prolonged. There was evident- 
ly a reluctance on Mr. Winter’s part to accept the 
conditions offered. When he came in he made no 
allusion to what had occurred, but after eating his 
breakfast, he said abruptly : 

“ The strike is ended as far as I am concerned. I 
am going to the shop ; and, Mary, there is a dollar 
for dinner.” 

He waited for no reply to this announcement. At 
noon no one asked him any questions, but Robert, 
who had watched him closely while on the street, 
was positive that he did not visit any saloon, although 
repeatedly asked to join an old comrade in drink- 
ing. 

“ I tell you, wouldn’t it be a big thing for us if 
father should give up beer and tobacco ? ” exclaimed 


55 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 

the boy. “ He hasn’t smoked a whiff to-day ; I 
know he hasn’t. He couldn’t smoke in the shop, 
and I have watched him the rest of the time.” 

In the evening Mr. Winter had another interview 
with his sister, who, to use her own words, worked 
and prayed hard all day. 

“ I have lived through one twenty-four hours 
without beer or tobacco; but whether I can keep it 
up is more than I know,” he said seriously. “ But 
there is one thing certain. Tobacco must go first. 
I can never endure the tobacco thirst without beer. 
There was not another man in the shop to-day, ex- 
cept Sutton, and there is a drive of work. If I was 
as I used to be, ten years ago, I could earn two dol- 
lars more before going to bed, but I can’t trust my- 
self now. The half loaf would be larger if I 
could.” 

It would be large enough as it is, if your family 
could only be sure of it.” 

They shall have it. I can promise that, what- 
ever happens. They shall have half I earn, whether 
much or little.” 

And the other half, brother ? ” 

I can not promise about that.” 

He was up early, the next morning, but Mrs. 
Stearns was early as he; so that, if he intended go- 
ing to the saloon, he had no opportunity. After 
breakfast she walked with him to the shop, thus 
preventing all annoyance from disaffected work- 
men. 

Mrs. Winter made a great gain that day. She 
was interested in what was going on around her. 


56 The Working-Mans Loaf. 

and even talked of what she could do for her family 
if she had money at her disposal. 

“ Mother used to say I had a knack for cutting 
and fitting, and making old things over; but it is so 
long since I tried, I had almost forgotten about it. 
I think I could make you a real pretty apron, Mary.” 

“ I wish you would,” Mary replied, delighted at 
the change in her mother. “ I have some money 
left from my marketing; enough to buy the material 
for an apron, and you and Aunt Rachel can go and 
buy it.” 

“Yes, and while we are out we will call on Mrs. 
Landaff,” said Aunt Rachel. “ I know she will be 
glad to see us.” 

Of course Mrs. Winter made many objections to 
going out, but these were overruled. She was sen- 
sitive in regard to her personal appearance, and this 
was considered a sure sign of improvement. The 
shopping was accomplished, the call made, and the 
tenement, soon to be vacated, examined. Mrs. 
Stearns was rejoiced that the tenement was ap- 
proved. 

“ It seems as though, if we could move in here, 
we could start new again,” said her companion. “ It 
would be the making of the boys, and Mary could 
have such a pleasant room, it wouldn’t be so hard 
for her to live with us.” 

There were better days in store for the family 
which had fallen so low. Mr. Winter had not been 
consulted in regard to moving; but there was no 
doubt that he would acquiesce in the plan. 

Thus far he had been unmolested, but there Avere 


57 


The Working-Man s Loaf, 

two parties who felt themselves aggrieved by his 
defection: the saloon-keepers, and the striking work- 
♦ men. They proposed to bring him back into the 
ranks; by fair means, if these proved effective; by 
foul means, if these failed. 

On his way home, the second evening after re- 
turning to his work, he encountered several of his 
old comrades, who insisted that he should go with 
them through the street he wished most to avoid. 
When opposite the beer-saloon, which had been his 
favorite resort, they attempted to force him to enter; 
which so aroused his anger, that he tore himself 
away, and hurrying through a back alley, hoped 
thus to elude them. But in this he was mistaken. 
They met him again near Blunt’s whisky-saloon, 
and made another push to overpower him. 

“ Come in and have a social time with your old 
friends,” said the smiling proprietor, throwing the 
door wide open. 

Never, so help me God !” cried the now furious 
man. I am not to be driven by a hundred of you. 
I will never enter this saloon alive. Things have 
come to a strange pass, when a man is to be driven 
into a trap like a wild beast. Hands off. Go where 
you will, but don’t try to drive me.” 

By this time a policeman interfered, and Mr. Win- 
ter was allowed to go his way without further mo- 
lestation. 

‘‘The men were half drunk,” he said when de- 
scribing the encounter. “ They have been drinking 
hard since they quit work, and nobody knows where 
they will stop.” 


58 The Workmg-Mafis Loaf, 

Where vjiW you stop ?” asked Luke, by no means 
realizing the full import of his question. 

Stop ! ” repeated the father. Where will I 
stop ? I have stopped. I have smoked my last whiff 
of tobacco, and drank my Jast glass of beer or 
whisky.” 

Good for you, father,” exclaimed Luke. I will 
swear off with you, and we will see what we can do.” 

“ So will I,” rejoined Clem. 

And I too,” added Will. 

“ As for me, I swore off more than a year ago,” 
saicf Robert. 

Thank God,” said Mrs. Stearns reverently. 
“ Let us thank Him on our knees.” 


CHAPTER X. 


AN ERRAND OF MERCY. 

How Mr. Winter lived through the next two weeks 
he hardly knew. There were times when it seemed 
to him that the craving for his old stimulants would 
drive him insane. He counted every hour of the day 
as bringing him nearer to the night, and every hour of 
the night, as bringing him nearer to another day. 
He was insensible to the jeers and ridicule heaped 
upon him, because of the mental and physical tor- 
ture he endured in the conflict with himself. 

His family had moved from the old, dismal tene- 
ment into one made bright and cheerful with the 
sunlight which flooded the rooms. l-His wages, paid 
each Saturday night, had been divided, as promised^ 
and one-half placed at the disposal of his wife and 
daughter. He was ready to give the whole, but this 
was not allowed. 

“ Half a loaf, and only half,” said Mary, who was 
held responsible for the marketing. ‘‘That was the 
agreement, and we will abide by it.” 

“ But I can never spend so much on myself,” he 
replied, “ It is not much I need besides what I 
share with the rest of you. I shall soon have a 
large surplus.” 

“ Which you can invest for your own benefit, 
father, in the way that will do you most good.” 

( 59 ) 


6o The Working-Mans Loaf, 

His sister said to him much the same ; and as for 
his wife, she was in a state of constant surprise. 
She was surprised at the change in her husband ; 
surprised that so much of comfort' could be pur- 
chased for so small an amount of money ; and most 
of all, she was surprised at what she was, herself, 
able to accomplish. 

She caught the spirit of activity from her family ; 
and worked, sometimes, quite beyond her strength. 
She had forsworn beer ; taking in its stead a sirhple 
tonic prepared by her sister-in-law. 

There was economical planning to save in one 
place, that more might be spent in another ; yet 
three good substantial meals were placed upon the 
neatly laid table every day. There was strong 
coffee for the father, tea for the mother, and plenty 
of rich milk for all who chose to drink it. 

Thanks to Aunt Rachel’s energy and industry, 
the boys were made ready for school. The two 
weeks of her proposed visit had lengthened into 
three, and the time for her return could be no longer 
delayed. Mary was almost disheartened at the 
thought of being left, but she was encouraged to 
hope for the best. 

“ You will have six to help you,” said Mrs. Stearns, 
as they talked of the future. “ It will be better 
for you all to depend upon yourselves. Your father 
is having a hard battle, but I believe he will conquer. 
You must persuade him to attend church with you. 
There was a time when it seemed to me he was al- 
most persuaded to be a Christian ; and now, if ever, 
he needs the safeguard of religion. I am thankful 


The Working-Man s Loaf, 6i 

the boys are fairly enlisted for the Sunday-school, 
but you must remember that they will need con- 
stant encouragement. I shall go home, feeling that 
you are all doing well.” 

“ O, Aunt Rachel, I wish I could go with you. 
It tires me to think of what, is before me. 1 feel so 
old too. It seems as though I had lived a great 
many years since I came here, and now, if things go 
wrong after you leave us, I shall think the fault is 
mine.” 

No wonder that this young girl shrank from the 
responsibilities which had been thrown upon her. 
The work had been well begun ; but to effect its 
purpose, it must continue. While there was no lack 
of money for comfortable living, there was some- 
times lack of strength to make it most available. 

Mrs. Landaff’s friendship never failed them ; and 
now that they lived in an adjoining house, they con- 
sulted her on all occasions. Ernest Landaff exerted 
a strong influence over the boys of the family, who 
regarded him with profound admiration. Like his 
mother, he delighted in being of service to others, 
and was quick to see where this could be done. 

There is trouble in store for the men who struck 
with Mr. Winter,” he said, one evening, when he 
came in from his work. “ They have been idle two 
months, and the result has not been what they ex- 
pected. . They have neglected their families, and 
spent more than half their time in drinking-saloons 
or places no better. The Union has notified them 
that, after this week, they must expect no more as- 
sistance. Of course the saloon-keepers will not 


62 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

trust them unless there is a prospect of being 
paid.” 

“ All the better for the men,” replied Mrs. Landaff. 

“ I know it is, and I wish they wotild see it so. 
Three-quarters of the money given by the Union 
has been spent for beer, whisky, and tobacco. I 
suppose that seems a large estimate to you, mother, 
but when a man accustomed to their use has no 
employment, he drinks and smokes, almost as a ne- 
cessity, to kill time, which hangs heavy on his hands. 
One of the strikers has a sick daughter, about 
twelve years old, who is really suffering for the 
want of proper food. One of the shop hands told 
me about her to-day, and I thought you and Mary 
Winter better go and see her.” 

“ Why not go this evening, Ernest ? If the child 
needs help, the sooner she has it, the better. A great 
deal may happen before to-morrow.” 

When a good deed was to be done, Mrs. Landaff 
was not one to delay its performance. So she, with her 
son, called at Mr. Winter’s, where the story was told. 

Ray has been just wild ever since he left the 
shop,” said Mr. Winter. “ I have seen him nearly 
every day, and I have never seen him when he was 
quite sober. I think he has given up drinking beer, 
and taken to whisky. I am sorry for Alice and her 
mother. Ray isn’t a bad-hearted fellow, but men 
who do as he is doing forget their families at home.” 

Why don’t you carry something real good to the 
sick girl ? ” now asked Clem. “ And you might talk 
to the man, too, father. You ought to know how,” 
added the boy. 


The Working-Mart's Loa.f, 63 

It was the first time Mr. Winter had thought of 
working to reform others ; but after a little con- 
sideration, he decided to accompany Mrs. Landaff 
and his daughter on their errand of mercy. 

We have come to see your sick girl,” responded . 
the elder woman, when they were invited to enter the 
plain room, which contained not a single unneces- 
sary article of furniture. 

‘*'1 have hardly a chair to offer you,- but any one 
who comes to see my Alice is welcome,” replied the 
mother. 

Mr. Winter said nothing; but he carried a basket, 
from which he took several packages, each contain- 
ing some delicacy to tempt the appetite of an in- 
valid. Mary w'as obliged to speak for him, which 
she did in the kindest possible manner. 

“ I can never thank you enough,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Ray, with tears in her eyes. “ Alice has had noth- 
ing to-day but corn-meal gruel. I thought the Lord 
had quite forgotten us. I could bear it for myself, 
but Alice could hardly swallow the gruel.” 

Where is your husband ? ” asked Mrs. Landafi. 
have not seen him since morning,” answered 
Mrs. Ray. I don't know where he is, but likely he 
is somewhere where there is liquor. Alice don't 
like to have me say it, but what else can I say ? 

Curse the beer and whisky, and But I won’t 

curse the men who sell it. They will have enough 
to suffer, without my curses.” 


CHAPTER XL 


SOMETHING TO DRINK. 

Mr. Winter stayed to hear no more. Every word 
condemned his own past life. He, too, had forgot- 
ten promises, ignored responsibilities, and neglected 
his most sacred duties. He was scarcely less guilty 
than his old comrade, Ray, who had left wife and 
child to depend upon others. He rushed from the 
room, without speaking to the sick girl, sympathy 
for whom had brought him there. 

Mrs. Landaff and Mary remained; the latter soon 
making the acquaintance of Alice Ray, and receiv- 
ing the heartiest thanks for unexpected kindness. 
The child had been so tired and so anxious, waiting 
for the return of her father, who promised to be 
home early. 

“ I always think he means to come, no matter how 
many times he doesn’t come,” she said with a sigh. 
“ He would be good, if it wasn’t for the bad drink. 
I know your father is good, or he wouldn’t have 
brought me so many good things. Couldn’t he talk 
to my father, and tell him how much better he 
could be ? You ask him to, won’t you ? ” 

Yes,” answered Mary, wondering how she should 
make the request. 

Meanwhile as Mr. Winter was walking rapidly 
(64) 


The Working-Mafi s Loaf, 65 

down the street, he met Mr. Ray, to whom he said 
cordially : 

“ Good - evening. I am glad to see you. Come 
home with me, and let us have a talk together/’ 

Will you give me something to drink ? I couldn’t 
think of talking when I am so dry,” was replied. 

“ I will give you something to drink and some- 
thing to eat. So come right along with me.” 

Evidently, Ray was out of funds, or he would not 
have been on the street at that time in the evening. 
He was in a reckless mood, and went with Mr. Win- 
ter, because anything was preferable to going home. 
He had gambled away what little money he had in 
the morning, and knew not where he was to get 
more. 

“ Do you live here ? ” he asked, as his companion 
stopped before a respectable - looking house. “ I 
thought you lived further down. I don’t see how 
you can afford to pay rent in such a house as this.” 

Come in, and I will tell you all about it, besides 
a good many other things, it will do you good to 
know,” was replied. 

The front room, which the boys h??d already 
learned to call the parlor, contained but few articles 
of furniture; yet, as the evening was warm, Mr. 
Winter invited his guest to a seat in this room. 
Then he went to the kitchen, and asked his wife to 
make some strong coffee, and send it in by Robert, 
with sugar and milk, and whatever else would suit 
the appetite of a tired, discouraged man. 

Ernest Landaff, who was giving the boys a lesson 
in simple mechanics, begged the privilege of pre- 


66 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 

paring the coffee, which he was allowed to do, and 
also to arrange the tray Robert carried to his father. 

“ Coffee ! ” muttered Ray, beginning to suspect 
his host of some concealed purpose in bringing him 
there. “ Did you invite me to come home with you 
for the sake of drinking a cup of coffee ? ” 

“Yes, for that, and the talk we are going to have,” 
was replied frankly. “ It is what I drink, and it 
does me good. It will do you good too. Put in 
plenty of sugar and milk, and then take a sandwich 
for a relish. After that, you can try some of my 
wife’s gingerbread. Coffee is a good deal better for 
us both than beer, and this is a better place than a 
beer-saloon for us to spend our evenings in.” 

Mr. Ray was entirely at fault. He knew not what 
to say, but he was thirsty, and the coffee was good. 
So he drank ; and after some urging, he proceeded 
to eat ; declaring, as he did so, that he had never 
relished any food so much. Then he drank more 
coffee, and gradually his reserve gave way. 

“ Is the shop full ? ” he asked somewhat hesi- 
tatingly. 

“Your jJlace is not permanently filled,” answered 
Mr. Winter. “ There is a chance for you to come 
back, if you come soon, and accept the conditions.” 

“ What are the conditions ? ” 

' “ The company have posted a notice that no man 
will be employed by them who drinks beer or any 
other kind ot liquor.” 

“ Then I shall never do another stroke of work 
for them. It is none of their business what I drink. 
I am a free man, not a slave to them or any one else. 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 67 

I shall do as I please. You may drink slops as long 
as you want to, but I am bound to have something 
stronger.” 7 

In his excitement the speaker would have rushed 
from the room, but his host detained him, saying in 
an earnest tone : 

‘‘Ray, I know as well as you do that the Union 
has shut down on you, and you must go to work, or 
starve, or beg. You and I have drank together, and 
spent our money, when our families ought to have 
had it. A large part of what I earned went for beer 
and tobacco, and sometimes for whisky ; but I never 
calculated exactly how much, until I quit the whole 
thing. We are living now on half of my wages, 
and we live well enough. Perhaps you have given 
your wife more money for her house-keeping than I 
gave mine, though she wouldn’t need so much. 
There are seven of us, and only three of you. I 
have five children, and you but one.” 

“Only one, and she, poor thing, is sick. , That 
makes me think. I promised to carry her some- 
thing good to eat, to-day, but when I got with the 
men, I forgot her. I don’t know what she will do. 
There wasn’t much for her or her mother, and I 
haven’t a cent left to buy anything for them.” 

“ They have all they need for to-night and to- 
morrow/’ 

“ How do you know ? Has any one told you ? 
Have you seen them ? ” 

“Yes, I was coming from your room when I met 
you. I carried them enough, so they will be com- 
fortable for a day or two. We heard how badly off 
they were, and went to help them.” 


68 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 

Don’t tell me my wife and child are objects of 
charity. Don’t tell me that my Alice and her 
mother are beggars.” 

“ They did not beg. One of our neighbors told 
us that your sick girl needed different food from 
what she had ; so I spent a dollar or two for her. 
And, Ray, I don’t think I went there any too soon. 
My daughter is there now, and if anybody can do 
your Alice good, she can.” 

“ Mercy ! what have I come to ! ” exclaimed Ray. 
‘‘ Winter, tell me what to do. I believe I have quite 
lost my head. My rent is due to-morrow, and my 
pockets are empty. I have given Blunt an order on 
my week’s allowance from the Union, and there is 
no more to come. What shall I do ? For pity’s sake 
tell me.” 

“ Do as I did. Swear off from beer, tobacco, and 
whisky, and go back to w’ork.” 

‘‘ But I can’t ask Sutton to take me back ; and 
besides. Winter, I don’t believe I could live on the 
cold-water plan.” 

“Live on the coffee plan, as I do. You would 
have a rough fight, but you have only to keep steady 
at it, and you will come out ahead. Do it for the 
sake of your wife and your Alicfe, if not for your- 
self. Go to Sutton to-night, and ask him to let you 
take your old place to-morrow. He will make it a 
condition that you stop drinking, but you ought to 
do that anyway.” 

“ How about tobacco ? ” 

“ He will leave that to yourself. But I tell you 
that tobacco must go with the beer, or you will be 


The Working-Man's Loaf. 69 

crazy with thirst. Come, Ray, I will go to Sutton 
with you.” 

I can’t. I never can come down to that. I would 
rather try my luck somewhere else.” 

“ You can do better in the old place than any- 
where else. You have nothing to live on, either, 
while you are hunting up another place. Be a man, 
Ray, and build yourself up where you have let 
yourself down. The men working at our trade, even 
with the cut-down, can make good wages. You 
know that as well as I do ; and if we are poor, after 
working as many years as we have, it is our own 
fault.” 


CHAPTER XIL 


A HELPING HAND. 

In her second appeal to Harold Sutton, Mrs. Lan- 
daff was too late. Mr. Winter had been there be- 
fore her, and with him was Mr. Ray, who had hardly 
recovered from what was little better than a long 
debauch. He could not speak for himself, but he 
endorsed all that was said in his behalf, and prom- 
ised to abstain from the use of all intoxicating 
drinks. “ If I go to drinking again, you will never 
see me afterward,” he said, with an emphasis which 
gave to his words a fearful meaning. I will never 
ask you to give me a second trial.” 

“ I trust there will be no need of that,” replied 
Mr. Sutton. “Your friend, here, is to be surety for 
your good conduct, and I shall be glad to have you 
back at work. If I was in the habit of speaking in 
public, I should certainly come out as a temperance 
lecturer. The money of too many men goes into 
the till of the saloon-keeper, instead of being spent 
for their families. 

“ Why, my friends, if I had drank beer, or whisky, 
or even used tobacco, I don’t know but my mother’s 
family v/ould have been in the poorhouse. My 
father died when I was fourteen years old, and there 
were five children younger. When the expenses 
( 70 ) 


71 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 

my father’s sickness and burial were paid, my mother 
had left only ten dollars, with enough of plain fur- 
niture for plain housekeeping. 

It was not my father’s fault that he was poor in 
this world’s goods, but it was a blessing to us that 
he was rich in a consistent religious character. He 
looked far into the future for his children; and see- 
ing the danger to which they would be exposed, 
warned us to avoid it. He called us around his 
death-bed, and there exacted from us a promise 
never to touch the cursed drink. We have all kept 
the promise, and to this day I do not know the. taste 
of any intoxicating liquor.” 

‘‘ I wish I could say that,” responded Ray earnest- 
ly. I began with beer when I was a boy, and here 
I am, so poor that my wife and my Alice must be 
fed by my neighbors.” 

" “ Feed some other man’s wife and child, and so 
pay the debt,” was replied. “There is only a step 
between poverty and independence. When you 
have made those dependent upon you comfortable, 
and you are comfortable with them, it needs only a 
few dollars in your pocket to make you as rich as 
your neighbor. Ask Winter about it. He says his 
family are living on half a loaf ; half of his wages.” 

“ I don’t see how he can do it,” said Ray. 

“ I do, because I know, by experience, how much 
of real, solid comfort can be bought with compara- 
tively little money. I didn’t tell you that, with what 
we children could earn, and our mother’s economy, 
we kept together and had a respectable home, with 
enough to eat and drink. We were clothed, too, so 


7 2 The Working-Man! s Loaf. 

that we went to church every Sunday; and, my 
friends, there were months and months when we 
had no more than a dollar a day to meet all our ex- 
penses. Mother did the planning, and made the 
most of what we had. It was close work, but we 
came out all right. How do you think it would 
have been if my brothers and myself had taken to 
beer and tobacco ? ” 

“ You would have been as poor as I am,” answered 
Ray; adding: “I thank you, Mr. Sutton, for giving 
us this bit of your experience. I didn’t know you 
had been down on a level with us.” 

Bless you, friend, I began at the foot of the lad- 
der, and Worked my way up. I worked hard too. 
There is not a man in the shop who has worked 
harder than I have, and I must keep on working.” 

It may be that Harold Sutton was moved to speak 
thus frankly by a remark of his old friend, Mrs. 
Landaff, who said to him : Remember the way 
you have come, and have a kind word and a helping 
hand for others who are climbing the hill.” 

Nothing else could so have touched the heart of 
Mr. Ray; and when he went home, late that even- 
ing, he was like a child trying to walk in a new 
path. 

O father, I spread the table for you long ago,” 
cried Alice, reaching out her hands toward him. 
‘‘ A good man came and brought me ever so many 
things. There was a nice old lady with him, too, 
and a girl, just four years older than I am. The 
man didn’t stay long, but I had a real nice time 
with the girl, and she promised to come again. I 


The Working-Man s Loaf, 73 

told mother I wanted to set the table for you, and 
she bolstered me up in a chair, so I could.” 

Alice was so eager to recount the events of the 
evening, that she gave her father no opportunity to 
speak, until she had quite exhausted her strength. 
Then she looked at him more closely, and quick to 
see the change in his appearance, asked : 

What is the matter, father ? Are you sick ? ” 

^‘No,” he replied, and then, turning to his wife, 
said : “ I am going back to work in the morning, 
and when I come home at night, I will bring you 
every cent I earn. There will be only a day’s wages, 
but that will be more than you have had this long 
time.” 

What do you mean ?” asked Mrs. Ray, coming 
close to her husband, and looking him steadily in 
the face. 

“ I mean — I mean — that I am going to be dif- 
ferent. I have had supper at Winter’s, and he went 

with me to see Sutton, and ” Here he broke 

down and could say no more. He, with his wife, 
knelt by their daughter’s couch, where they all 
wept ; scarce knowing why, and yet unable to re- 
strain their tears. It was nearly morning before he 
slept, yet he was in season for his work ; and true 
to his word, he carried his day’s wages home and 
placed the amount in his wife’s hands. 

With this she was able to provide better food than 
usual for the Sabbath. Alice, too, had her share, in 
addition to what Mr. Winter had brought to her. 

Ernest Landaff carried in some papers for Sunday 
reading ; yet with all the home attractions, Mr. Ray 
4 


*74 Working’Mafiks Loaf. 

was restless and impatient. ^At evening, when Mr. 
Winter called to invite him to attend a service in a 
chapel near by, he would have been glad to accept 
the invitation. 

“But I never can be seen with these shabby 
clothes beside your new suit," he said regretfully. 
“ I am too proud for that, low as I have gone." 

His friend did not stop to urge him to change his 
decision ; but going directly out, soon returned in 
his working dress, saying : 

“ Now you have no excuse." 

“ That is true, Winter, and I thank you for taking 
it away. I am glad to go with you." 

So in one of the back pews of the chapel sat two 
roughly dressed men, listening as for their lives to 
the old prophet's invitation : “ Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters." 

This invitation was repeated over and over. It 
was enforced by the most tender personal appeals ; 
every word emphasized, and every motive urged for 
its acceptance. 

When the short sermon was ended, the speaker 
asked any one present who had not yet drank of the 
waters of life, but who desired to do so, to manifest 
this desire by rising. 

No sooner was this nvitation given, than Mr. 
Ray sprang to his feet ; forgetting all things else in 
the one great longing which filled his hearts 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE WORKING-MAN. 

Another temptation, and another unprincipled 
capitalist to take large slices from the working-man’s 
loaf,” remarked one gentleman to another, as they 
were standing opposite the saloon, the opening of 
which had so troubled Robert Winter. 

Yes, and the strangest part of it is : the work- 
ing-man seems not to realize how large a part of 
his loaf is thus taken away from him,” was replied. 

He does not realize it. But now that we are 
upon the subject, have you ever thought that, with 
few exceptions, the men of this country are all 
working-men ? ” 

I have thought of it, and I consider it unfor- 
tunate that those who follow certain occupations 
should be singled out as pre-eminently the working- 
men. I am not sure but it has something to do 
with the feeling of antagonism between labor ard 
capital.” 

“ I am quite sure that it has. Those who work 
under the direction of others are inclined to con- 
sider their employers as mere task-masters, wresting 
from them unrequited labor. For one, I was never 
so happy as when I worked on a fair, living salary. 
I knew exactly how much I could spend, and still 
lay by a little every year. I am richer than I was 

( 75 ) 


76 The W 07 ' king- Mans Loaf, 

then ; but I work harder and have a thousand times 
more anxiety.” 

“ That is my experience ; and besides being 
anxious for myself, the older I grow, the more 
anxious I am for my neighbors. I am both grieved 
and indignant, when I see so many drinking-saloons 
opened in all parts of our city, sapping the very life 
of our community, and bringing poverty to thou- 
sands of families.” 

The gentlemen who had 'expressed their opinions 
thus freely, passed on, without observing a bright- 
eyed boy who, basket in hand, stood where he could 
hear all they had said. This boy was Luke Winter, 
always on the lookout for new ideas, as his first 
question after reaching home proved. 

“ Mary, what kind of a loaf is the working-man’s 
loaf ? ” he asked eagerly. 

His sister looking up in surprise, and giving him 
no direct answer, he proceeded to repeat what he 
had heard. 

“ I understand it now,” she said. A working- 
man’s loaf is his wages.” 

I see, I see,” exclaimed Luke. “ That is it ex- 
actly, and that gentleman told the truth about the* 
saloon-keepers taking big slices. They are just like 
some boys when they want a bite of an apple. They 
open their mouth as wide as they can, and take 
every bit they can get. The man in the new saloon 
asked me to do a job of work for him this morning, 
and said he would pay me well for it ; but I told 
him I wouldn’t stay ’round a saloon for a dollar a 
minute, and I wouldn’t ; would you ?” 


The Working-Mafis Loaf, 77 

“ No ; you must keep out of the way of tempta- 
tion, if you would keep your pledge.” 

I mean to. The fellows I used to go with are 
all down on me, but I don’t care for that. I just 
keep preaching to them ; and telling them how 
much better off they would be, if they would take 
the same pledge I have. Wasn’t it awful, to live as 
we used to ? ” 

It was awful to me.” 

“It would have been to me, if I had t;nown 
enough. I see now all about our half loaf, as Aunt 
Rachel called it. It means half of father’s wages, 
and it is a pretty big piece, when he earns as much 
as he did last week. I should think we might almost 
have a carpet for the parlor.” 

“We can, almost, but not quite.” 

“ O Mary, what does genius mean ? Ernest 
Landaff says Robert is a genius, and I want to know 
what that means. There are so many things I want 
to know, I am afraid I never shall find them all out. 
I think of more 'things all the time. I waked up in 
the night, and I wanted to go into your room and 
as’k you lots of questions ; but I went off to sleep, 
and this morning something else crowded them out 
of my mind. ”7 

A “ sharp boy ” was Luke Winter, as everybody 
who knew him said, and as his father had frequent 
occasion to remember. The idea of the working- 
man’s loaf had taken full possession of him. He 
never saw a man going into a drinking-saloon, with- 
out calculating how large a slice would be left on 
the counter. 


78 The Working-Mans Loaf, 

“ That is what is the matter with so many women 
and children who don’t have enough to eat,” he 
said, one day, to his father. “ I tell you, I don’t 
mean to make bread for saloon-keepers to gobble 
up.” 

When talking with Mr. Ray upon this subject, 
Mr. Winter expressed the same opinion ; his com- 
panion replying : 

“ If^en realized they were spending more money 
for liquor and tobacco than for their families, I be- 
lieve they would stop. The truth is, Winter, I never 
stopped to think anything about it. I earned my 
money, and when I had it in my pocket, I spent it 
for what I wanted first. If anybody had told me 
then that I was a fool, I should have resented it, 
but they would have told the truth.” 

“ I was a fool, too, Ray, but I can not say that I 
never thought how much money I was spending. I 
did think, and it made me cross ; but I had such a 
craving for beer and tobacco, that I didn’t care for 
anything else. I don’t know where I should be, by 
this time, if I had kept on. Mr. Sutton thinks it a 
moderate estimate, that one - quarter of all the 
money paid to mechanics and common laborers, in 
this city, is spent for what really injures them. I 
should set it higher than that. In the last two 
years I have not averaged to spend as much as a 
quarter of my wages for my family.” 

“Neither have I, and all the time my poor sick 
girl has been pining for the want of what I would 
not give her. May God forgive me, and help me to 
do better in future. You have five children, and I 
have only Alice. I shall do all I can for her.” 


79 


The Working-Mans Loaf, 

‘‘ And I shall do all I can for my five.” 

“You ought to, Winter. Robert can fill your 
* place at the lathe, and more too, if you give him a 
chance.” 

“He shall have a chance, and so shall the rest of 
my children. My wife and I begin to talk of pend- 
ing Mary to school. We haven’t said anything to 
her about it, but we think we can manage to bring 
it around.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE PRIZE, 

It had been Robert Winter’s ambition to know 
as much as Ernest Landaff ; but when he took the 
prize for the best mechanical drawing — a prize for 
which this friend also competed — he was utterly 
amazed at his good fortune. 

“Why, Mary, it almost takes my breath away, 
just to think of it,” he said to his sister. “ I can 
hardly believe it ; and it seems to me now that the 
prize really belongs to Ernest. Mr. Otterson has 
always said he was a splendid draughtsman.” 

“No one doubts that, and Ernest has always said 
that you are a genius.” 

“ I am what you and he have made me. Think 
what I was three years ago, when you came home 
from Uncle Daniel’s. Why, Mary, it doesn’t seem as 
though we could live a week as we did then. And 
look at father. He used to go slouching along 
through the streets, as if he was ashamed of 
himself. Now he stands up straight, and puts his 
feet down fair and square. I am beginning to be 
proud of him.” 

“ And of mother too } ” 

“Yes. She has changed as much as father. They 
have kept right along together. They copldn’t help 
(8o) 


The Working-Man's Loaf, 8i 

it, with you doing as much as you have ; and I sup- 
pose we must thank Aunt Rachel for that.” 

‘‘Aunt Rachel will be very glad to hear you have 
gained the prize.” 

“ So am I glad; but I don’t care so much for that, 
as I do for knowing what I want to. The rest of 
you are welcome to all the praise, and the hundred 
dollars besides.” 

Robert’s brothers were very proud of him; glad, 
too, that he had earned so much money. 

“ Now we shall be all right for Christmas,” said 
Luke, clapping his hands. “ I tell you, I have raked 
and scraped every cent I could get hold of, but I 
began to be afraid we boys couldn’t do our part. 
You can give fifty dollars, and have fifty for your- 
self. Won’t Mary be surprised, and won’t she begin 
to think she is getting some of her pay for having 
such a hard time, when she first came to live with 
us ? I had rather wait for the new house another 
year, and then have more things to put in it.” 

This question of waiting longer for a new house 
had been seriously considered by Mr. Winter; and 
as he could rent a larger tenement in the neighbor- 
hood where he had lived, he decided to do so. 

He was earning better wages than ever before ; 
doing the finest work in his line, and counted reli- 
able in all things. His children were in school, 
making good progress in their studies, and ranking 
high as scholars. The entire family were constant 
attendants at church, and Sunday-school; respect- 
able and respected. 

Mary had developed a. talent for music, and her 
4 * 


. 82 The Working-Man s Loaf, 

brothers, who thought there was never another sister 
like her, resolved that she shpuld have a piano. For 
a year they had been planning to accomplish this, 
and Robert’s prize made it sure that it would be 
purchased as a Christmas present. 

Uncle Daniel and Aunt Rachel, and all the cousins, 
were invited to spend the holidays in the city ; but 
the young people were otherwise engaged, so that 
only their parents accepted the invitation. The 
presence, however, of these two caused a general 
rejoicing, and they, in turn, rejoiced at the prosper- 
ity and happiness they witnessed. 

Christmas morning, while Mary Winter was mak- 
ing an early call upon Mrs. Landaff, the new piano 
was put in place ; and upon her return, Robert at- 
tempted a presentation speech. In this, however, 
he failed ; and Luke came to his assistance, by ex- 
claiming : 

“ It is yours, and we all helped pay for it. Now 
I hope you won’t be sorry you came to live with us 
when we didn’t live decent.” 

“ Sorry! ” repeated Mary, looking around from one 
to another. “ I never can thank you enough for doing 
so much for me.” 

She could say no more for the sobs which choked 
her voice; and of them all, Aunt Rachel was first to 
regain self-control : singing Coronation, as the most 
fitting expression of her feelings. Others joined ; 
and at last, when Mary played the accompaniment, 
it was like a grand burst of praise from grateful 
hearts. 

Mingled with so much of gratitude for past mer- 


83 


The Working-Mans Loaf. 

cies, there were bright anticipations for the future ; 
many of which have been realized. iTwo years of 
well-remunerated labor on the part of Mr. Winter, 
with the hearty co-operation of his wife, made it 
possible for him to build a commodious house, with- 
out decreasing the allowance for his children. 

Mr. Ray and himself had purchased adjoining- 
lots of land, just beyond the city limits, not long 
after signing a pledge of total abstinence; paying 
for them in instalments, and so preparing the way 
for permanent homes. Their houses stand side by 
side; their gardens are laid out according to the 
same plan, and their families are on the most inti- 
mate terms. 

Mrs. Landaff regretted that they should go so far 
from her; yet she, too, hopes to have a home near 
them, when Ernest shall give to her a daughter. 
Certain it is that Mary Winter will use her influence 
to accomplish this, and Efnest Landaff is reasonably 
certain to be governed by her wishes. 

It is yet too soon to predict what the future will 
bring to the boys of Mr. Winter’s household, but 
thus far they give promise of useful and successful 
lives. 

They are still eating from the working-man's loaf; 
and as Luke says, “a grand, good loaf it is; fresh 
baked every day, and increased in size, as the appe- 
tite of the family demands.” 


XHE END. 







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New Temperance Publications. 

The National Temperance Society has recently issued the follow 
ing valuable publications. 

The Arch Ficr/iI of Ihe dilations. By Rev. Dr. T. De Witt 

Talmage. 12ino, 12 pages. Thin paper, with cover, per hundred $1.00 ; per 
thousand $5.00. Thick paper, with cover $0.05 

It Arraigns the liquor traffic as the great enemy of our own aud other Nations. It is 
a masterly exposition of the overwlielming iniquity of the deadly traffic. 

The Pathfinder. By Mrs. E. G. Greene. i2mo, 185 pages.. . .25 

A Manual of Helps for the Work of the Womau’s Christian Temperance Union, 
edited and compiled by Mrs. E. G. Greene, president of the VV'oman’& Christian Temper- 
ance Union of Vermont, with an introduction by Miss Frances E. Willard. It contains 
forms of organization for local unions, together with election of officers, committees 
and their duties, delegates to conveutious, plans for inslitution, list of departments, with 
a full description of each, list of superintendeuts, together wdth their duties, etc., etc. 

Leail us not into Teiliplatiou. By Rev. Dr. Newman Hall. 

12mo, 24 pages ,10 

A special plea to young men. It is an able Gospel plea for total abstinence, with 
striking and forcible illustrations enforcing the wisdom aud duty of abstinence for one’s 
own sake aud for the sake of others. It is a most valuable pamphlet for general circula. 
tion, and especially among the young. 

The National Temperance Almanac and Teeto- 

talkr’s Year Book for 1885. By J. N. Stearns. 12mo, 72 pages. Per doz- 
en $1.00 10 

This admirable handbook, full of interesting and latest facts, figures, and statistics, 
together with a full list of Temperance Periodicals aud Temperance Societies, illustrated 
with shadow pictures and other engravings, is now ready for 1885, the seventeenth yeai 
of its publication. It should be in every family, 

Thaiiksj^ivin^ Respoii.sive Exerci§e. i2mo, 4 pages. 

Postage 5 cents per hundred. Per hundred 30 

For use In Sunday-schools and Juvenile Societies, and adapted for all public gather- 
ings on this national holiday. It has the Psalm of Thanksgiving arranged in responsive 
forms, “ Lesson on the Harvest,” appropriate hymns, etc. 

The Prohibition Song§ter. T2mo, 64 pages. Compiled by 

J. N, Stearns. $1.50 per dozen ; $12 per hundred : single copies , .15 

This is a new collection of words and music for Prohibition Clubs, Camp-Meetings 
and Temperauce Gatherings, vyith some of the most soul-stirring songs ever published. 
Music by some of the best composers, and words by our best poets. Just the thing for 
the campaign for temperance Just opening all over the laud. 

Any of the above publications sent, post-paid, on receipt of price. Address 

J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent, 

58 REAI>E STREF/r, NEW YORK. 


NatioiiSil Tempera.nce Societf . 

— 


MARK HOPKINS, H.D., 
President 


Wj«. D. porter, J. N. STEARNS, 

Treasurer. Oor. Sec. and Pub. Agent 


T he national temperance society, organized in ISfiS for the purpose of sup- 
plying a sound and able temperance literature, nave already stereotyped and published 
over one thousacd publications of all sorts and sizes, from the one-page tract up to the 
bound volume of 1,000 pages. This list comprises books, tracts, and pamphlets, containing 
essays, stories, sermons, argument, statistics, history, etc., upon every pnase of the ques- 
tion. Special attention has been given to the department 


FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARIES. 

\ 

One hundred and thirty-three volumes have already been issued, written by some of the beet 
authors in the land. These have been carefully examined and approved by the Piibllcatios 
Committee of the Society, representing the various religious denominations and temperanca 
organizations of the country, which consists of the following members : 


PETER CARTER, 

Rev. W. T. SABINE, 

A. A. ROBBINS, 

Rev. HALSEY MOORE, 


Rev. a. G. LAWSON, 

T. A. BROUWER, 

D. C. EDDY, D.D.. 

J. B. DUNN, D.D. 

Rev. ALFRED TAYLOR, 


A, D. VAIL, D.D., 
R. R SINCLAIR, 
JAMES BLACK, 

J. N. STEARNS. 


The volnmes have been cordially recommended by leading clergymen of all denominations 
and by numerous Ecclesiastical bodies and Temperance Organizations all over the land, 
They should be in every Sunday-school Library. The following is a list of some of the latost 
and the best issued : 


Miss Janet’s Old Howse. By Annette L. Noble. i2mo, 428 pp. $ 1.25 
Spinniiig-Wlieel of Tamwortli (Tlie). By Rev. W. A. 

Smith. i2mo, 206 pages ,90 

ffauilted Islands. By M. E. Wilmer. i2mo, 383 pages 1.25 

Millertoii People. By Faye Huntington. i2mo, 313 pages... 1.00 

Profit and Loss. Bv Mary D. Chellis. i2mo, 387 pages 1 26 

Coiig^rcssman Stanley’s Fate, By Harriet A. Harp. i2mo, 

403 pages I 25 

How Billy Went Up in the World. By Annette L. Noble. 

i2mo, 396 pages I 25 

Competitive Worltimeii. By Faye Huntington. i2mo, 272 

pages 1 00 

llaiiiiali : One of the Stroii;^ Women. By Mrs. T. McNair 

Wright, i2mo, 290 pages | 00 

CNOldeii Threads. By Ernest Gilmore. i2rao, 265 pages 1 00 

Ullie Riiyinond’s Life- tVorIt, and Other Stories. By Jean- 

nie Bell. i2mo 270 pages ] 00 

Save the Boys- By Miss M. E. Winslow. i2mo, 379 pages. ... 1 25 

Sunset on Mount Blanc. By Mrs. M. F. Martin. i2mo, 

456 pages. ^1 50 

Mabel’s Worb, By Mrs. S. M. I. Henry. i2mo, 468 pages... 1 50 

Voice of*the Home (The). By Mrs. S. M. I. Henry. i2mo, 

405 pages 1 25 

Her inheritance. By Laurie Loring. i2mo, 552 pages 1 25 

Lost Lstate (The). By Mrs. J. P. Ballard. i2mo, 218 pages.. 1 00 

Rex Ring^^fohl’s School. By Rev. Pliny Steele Boyd. i2mo, 

399 pages 1 25 

Prince of Good Fellows (The). By Margaret E. Wilmer. 

i2rao, 367 pages 1 25 

Secret of Victory. By Miss M. E. Winslow. 12 mo, 170 pages. 75 

Little Blue Jachet. By M. A. Pauli. i2mo, 212 pages 75 

OiBr Iloni(‘S. By Mary Dwinell Chellis. i2mo, 426 pages 1 50 

Rose Ulifton. By Mrs. E, J. Richmond. J2mo, 426 pages 1 50 

Consecrated. By Ernest Gilmore. /2mo, 434 pages 1 50 


Address J. N. '• '^ARNS, Publishing Agent» 

. ‘ade Street a New York City. 



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